No Idea
by Alaska Steele
Summary: Tonks really has no idea the journey she will undertake when she first joins the Order of the Phoenix, but as Voldemort and his followers grow stronger, other things begin to happen as well. NTRL
1. joining

No Idea

* * *

chapter one

joining

I could say, without remorse, that I positively _hated _my job. When I'd signed on for Auror training, I'd expected a bit more excitement than this dull paperwork, most of which consisted of cheerfully false claims of dark magic. Not only that, but with the Ministry steadily denying that Lord Voldemort had returned, there really wasn't much to do except sit back and watch chaos break out right under my nose. As an Auror, I had expected to be allowed to at least _try_ to control it. Instead, I found myself constantly wasting my time _ignoring _it, twiddling my thumbs when I could be out fighting a nasty Death Eater or two.

With a kind of resigned sigh, I let a report on demonic sounds in London drop onto my desk. I glanced in the mirror; my hair was wilting in all the horror of this boring work. I screwed up my face and thought, _Bubblegum pink, damn you._ When I looked in the mirror again, the not-so-electric blue hair had faded, replaced by a vibrant, almost humming pink. I smiled at myself and murmured, "Much better."

Then I saw the other figure in the mirror, the one that was scowling at me, and I leapt to my feet, promptly causing a tray of papers to crash to the floor. "Not _again_," I grumbled, waving my wand, and the papers flew back into the tray, newly restored to my desk. "Wotcher, Mad-Eye," I said carefully, turning to face the demented Auror.

"Follow me, Tonks," he grunted, with a last darkly significant look at my hair, and took off down the hallway, limping on his clawed foot. I pulled a disgusted face and dragged myself after him, sighing. Well, it wouldn't be the first time, but they sure hadn't been complaining about my morphing abilities during training. _At least, _I thought, a little gloomily, _this may be a bit more exciting than paperwork._

As my feet trod the hallway behind Mad-Eye, I realized where we were going and my stomach clenched momentarily in dread. What had I done that was bad enough to be summoned by Mad-Eye Moody and then taken to Kingsley Shacklebolt's office, both of whom were much higher up on the Auror food chain than I? I shook my head as we arrived in front of Shacklebolt's door. Something slipped under the door from Moody's wand and Shacklebolt's deep voice called, "Come in."

The instant that we were both through the door, Shacklebolt stood and twitched his wand at it, and I felt a silent spell whoosh past me; immediately, the door shut softly and pins and needles inside it clicked into place. Moody's wand had soundproofed the room; I could tell by the nearly invisible points of white light in each of the upper corners of Shacklebolt's office. Suddenly, my wand was slipping from my fingers, but I clung to it, glaring at Shacklebolt. "What the bloody **_hell_** do you think you're doing?" I snapped. "Whatever it is I did, it can't be bad enough that you're going to take my wand!"

Moody summoned a chair with his wand; it came up behind me, knocking into the back of my knees and making me sit down with a rather ungraceful _thump_. Then again, I never really _had _been graceful, but usually that was the fault of mine, rather than a grumpy old codger who wanted to knock the feet out from under me. I cast a glare at Mad-Eye and then turned to look at Shacklebolt, who was looking, with an expression of slight distaste, at my newly bright pink hair. "Can't you tone it down just a _bit_, Tonks?" he asked with a sigh. "It's hurting my eyes."

I glared even harder and let my hair go a bit brighter. "Why on Earth would you lock me in a soundproofed office with two Aurors way above my rank to talk about the color of my _hair_?"

He sighed again and shook his head. "I suppose that isn't the point." He shuffled some papers on his desk. I noticed that Mad-Eye hadn't sat down, but was rather standing, looking at the door, wand still out and at the ready. "You were seen shredding _The Daily Prophet_ yesterday," he said, his tone more businesslike. "Would you care to tell us _why_?"

I snorted. "You've called me in here to discuss why I was shredding a newspaper yesterday? I could be finishing a report on alleged demonic sounds issuing from a Muggle's house in London, sir."

"I'm serious, Tonks," Shacklebolt said sharply. "We need to know why."

I stared at him a moment, quite wondering _why _he needed to know why. "I guess it's because I think they're lying. About most everything. And for a minute there, shredding Fudge's lying face seemed like a pretty good idea to me." I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. "Satisfied?"

I had expected this to at least upset the two. On the contrary, Shacklebolt grinned widely, conjured a cup out of midair, and started pouring tea from his wand. "Have a biscuit, Tonks," he said, his deep voice noticeably lighter as he nodded to the tray that had appeared on his desk.

I looked at them warily. "You aren't trying to poison me, are you?" I asked, picking up a biscuit and sniffing it delicately.

"Poison you?" Shacklebolt said, looking both alarmed and amused. "No, no…we have a proposition for you."

I looked over the biscuit at him curiously. "A proposition?" I asked in interest.

Moody finally spoke up, moving away from the door. "Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

I carefully replaced the biscuit, deciding not to risk it just yet. "They were a group who fought you-know-who last time, weren't they?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "The Order has reconvened in the light of recent times."

Suddenly, my heart was fluttering somewhere in the region of my throat. The Order – back together – the chance to fight – to actually do something…

"Do you belong to it?" I blurted, staring up at Mad-Eye.

He nodded. "So does Shacklebolt here."

I looked between them. "What does it take to join?" I finally asked, looking back up at Mad-Eye.

"You catch on quick," Shacklebolt commented, slightly amused. "I take it that's a yes, then?"

He pushed a cup of tea toward me. I grinned, raised the mug to both of them, and said, "Cheers, gentlemen." Then I tipped my head back and drained the mug, just in time to see Shacklebolt smile in relief and to see Mad-Eye take a seat, although I noticed that he didn't touch the biscuits.

Finally, I was going to be doing something worthwhile.

* * *

"Read this and memorize," Shacklebolt instructed, handing me a slip of parchment. I recognized immediately Dumbledore's silvery, slanted handwriting and glanced through it quickly. He took it from me then and burned it immediately. I thought of what I'd read and, just like that, 12 Grimmauld Place appeared, squeezing in between two houses. He gestured toward the door and I walked forward; before he could stop me, I rang the doorbell.

The result was instantaneous and disastrous; someone shrieked from within, and then a motherly, exasperated, red-headed woman was pulling me inside, and the shrieking still hadn't stopped. Catching sight of the wailing woman in the portrait straight in front of me screaming, "FILTH – SCUM – BLOOD TRAITORS – FILTHY HALFBREEDS –," I was momentarily distracted and immediately my foot caught on something. I was just preparing myself for an inadvertent meeting with the cold, hard floor when someone was catching me and easefully pulling me back to my feet.

"Thanks," I said gratefully, straightening; then I was looking into a kindhearted pair of tired blue-grey eyes, and my breath, momentarily, left me. There were shrieks all around us, and the shout of someone bellowing himself hoarse at the screaming picture on the wall, but for a moment, all I could do was look curiously into that pair of eyes – so deep, and so very sad. "Thanks," I repeated, as things began to calm down. "I'm dead clumsy, so it might come as a surprise that I don't typically like falling to the floor."

He smiled and chuckled softly. It made him look a decade younger, made his lined face seem a little brighter, a little more hopeful. "I take it you're Nymphadora?" he asked; his voice was very soft, slightly hoarse, but pleasant, mid-range.

I shuddered at the sound of my name. "So someone told you I'm clumsy _and _my wretched first name. What else do you know about me, oh mysterious stranger?"

He laughed again, softly, his light brown hair shifting a bit. I noticed it was flecked, in places, with gray, even though I guessed that he couldn't be older than his late thirties, at most. My heart lifted to hear him laugh. He seemed so very tired and careworn, quite as though he hadn't smiled in months. "I'm afraid that's where my knowledge stops," he said. "Remus Lupin."

He stretched out his hand to shake mine. "Wotcher, then, Remus," I said, smiling up at him. "But take care to remember from now on: it's Tonks, or you'll find yourself hexed to oblivion."

"I'll do my best," he chuckled, looking amused, and then he glanced around. The man who'd been bellowing had yanked moth-eaten curtains closed over the portrait and was now glowering, sweeping his mop of black hair from his face.

"Thanks for the help, Moony," he said, turning to glance at us, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "You too, Shacklebolt," he added, catching sight of the Auror, but then his eyes turned back to Remus and I. "Oh-ho," he said, almost triumphantly, and when his face turned towards mine, my hand immediately went to my wand.

"Whoa," Remus said quickly, pulling my arm back. "Why didn't you _warn _her?" he asked Shacklebolt, a worry line creasing his brow. "Would _you _have liked to be shocked by the image of Sirius Black appearing before you?"

"You make it sound like no one would want to see me, Remus," Black said, sounding hurt, but then he turned to me.

"It's not only that," I managed, in a strangled whisper. "He's my _cousin_."

"Ah," Remus said, as though he'd just remembered. "That does complicate things."

I had eyes only for Black. A convicted killer, spending over a decade in Azkaban, murdering dozens of innocent people, my _relative, _and he was standing right here, in front of me… "Why did you do it?" I breathed, staring at him.

He laughed, more of a bark than a laugh. "Come now, Nymphadora, couldn't you see how incredibly _eager _I was to get back on the family tapestry?" he said, snorting.

I frowned at him. "First off, it's _Tonks_, no one calls me Nymphadora, as I was just explaining to Remus," I said, and he stopped laughing.

"Alright, alright," he said, almost gaily, and gestured down the hallway. "Let's go into the kitchen, I can see I'm going to have to explain _again_…"

I looked at Shacklebolt. He nodded. I sighed, tucked my wand away, and followed Black, trying to stay as far away from the errant house elf heads as possible. When we'd all sat down in the kitchen, the woman who'd first pulled me inside bustled in, and smiled at me. "Hello, dear," she said. "I'm Molly Weasley. You must be Nymphadora?"

"I prefer to be called by Tonks only," I said, smiling back. "Nice to meet you."

She nodded to me and sat down, too. "Alright," I said, looking across the table to Black, who was observing me in interest. "Speak, dear cousin."

So he talked.

"First off, I did not kill a single soul," he said firmly, staring straight into my eyes. "That was Peter Pettigrew. The story goes that he cornered me and was sobbing about Lily and James, and that I blew him and the rest of the street to kingdom come. The truth, however, is that Peter Pettigrew – like myself – is an illegal Animagus, and _he _blew up the street with his wand behind his back, cut off his own finger, and disappeared down the sewer with the rest of the rats after he'd transformed. In the meantime, _I _was hauled away to Azkaban. The only thought that sustained me for all those years was that I was innocent. It's not exactly a _happy_ thought, but the dementors couldn't take it from me, and since I _am _an Animagus, I could turn into a dog when it all became too much; they couldn't sense me very well then. Two years ago, I transformed into a dog and slipped between them when they were pushing in food, then swam to mainland."

My brow furrowed. "If you could've done that all this time, then why did you wait until two years ago?"

"Because it so happens that Harry Potter is my godson," he growled, "and his best friend is Ronald Weasley. Fudge came by touring Azkaban, and gave me his newspaper when I said I was bored. And there they were, the entire Weasley family, on holiday in Egypt, and Peter Pettigrew, as a rat, was on Ron's shoulder. I knew there was a murderer at Hogwarts, a murderer who had also served Voldemort, the murderer that had betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort."

I stared at him for a moment. I was no Occlumens, but anyone could see the pleading, the desperation, the _truth _in Sirius Black's eyes. "Please believe me, Tonks," he said quietly. "I would have never betrayed Lily and James. I would never have served Voldemort. You believe me." He reached out his hand across the table, the palm turned up towards me. "Don't you?"

I looked at him a moment longer, at the raw desperation of his eyes, the man who'd spent years in Azkaban and somehow still had enough cunning to worm his way out. My decision clicked shortly after that. I reached out and placed my hand in his. "Of course, Sirius," I said softly. "I believe you."

The relief at the table was immediate and immense; it felt as though a great burden had been lifted from everyone there. He gave my hand a squeeze, and then let it go. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"The Order will be here in about a half an hour," Molly said, and stood. "If you would all kindly move to the front room, I'll start dinner."

"Anything I can help with, Molly?" I asked, standing; only by turning swiftly could I catch my chair, which had nearly fallen to the floor.

"Certainly, dear. The rest of you…" She pointed her wand and scanned it over Remus, Sirius, and Shacklebolt. "Out. Now."

As they grudgingly left, talking amongst themselves, I turned to clear off the table, which was strewn with various bits of parchment, apple cores, and what looked like half a peanut butter sandwich. "Can this all go in the trash?" I asked her, eyeing the crumbs.

"Yes, please," she said, and I waved away the mess. Just then, another person came bursting into the kitchen.

"Mum…" she said, but then saw me and stopped abruptly. She had very vibrant red hair and bright brown eyes, and her face was currently flushed. She looked to be about fourteen. "Sorry," she said, and smiled at me. "Didn't know we had company."

"It's okay," I said quickly, turning to make sure that nothing else had happened when I'd siphoned all of the rubbish into the garbage. "I'm Tonks."

"Ginny," the girl said.

"Wotcher, Ginny," I said, and she looked in interest at my hair.

"How'd you get it so pink?"

"Oh, it's easy," I said dismissively; I screwed up my eyes and thought, _Neon green_, and immediately heard her gasp of surprise. I smiled at her shocked expression. "I'm a Metamorphmagus," I added helpfully. "I can change at will."

"Wow," she said, still with a look of surprise on her face.

"What was it that you wanted, Ginny?" Molly asked; I assumed that Ginny was her daughter, judging by the hair.

"Oh, Fred and George again, you know…Apparating again…they landed on Hermione's cat…"

Molly sighed and pushed back her hair. "If I've told them once I've told them a thousand times…FRED! GEORGE!" She bustled out of the kitchen, leaving Ginny and I alone.

"So can you change into _anything_?" she asked eagerly.

"Anything."

It was then that a very bushy-haired girl walked into the kitchen, with a very grumpy-looking cat in her arms. She looked at me curiously. "Ginny, who's this?" she asked the redhead.

"Tonks," Ginny said promptly. "This is Hermione Granger," she added to me.

"Wotcher, Hermione," I said.

"She's a Metamorphmagus," Ginny told Hermione, and immediately Hermione's eyes went round as saucers.

"You _are_?" she practically squealed. "But they're really, _really _rare, and…aren't you an Auror? I heard Mrs. Weasley saying that we had someone new…"

"Yeah, it was dead useful in Auror training, I got full marks on Concealment and Disguise and I didn't have to study at all," I said, grinning. "But Stealth and Tracking wasn't my good spot…did you hear me trip over that umbrella stand when I first got here?"

"I _thought_ someone had set Mrs. Black off again," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"That's Sirius's _mum_?" I said, dumbfounded. "No wonder he was so eager to get off that wretched family tapestry…"

They both laughed. I heard Molly's voice shouting upstairs, and two voices trying to dissuade her at the same time; meanwhile, Mrs. Black was shrieking again. Laughing with Hermione and Ginny, I felt like I'd finally found something that suited me; it seemed that in 12 Grimmauld Place, the home of the Order of the Phoenix, things were rarely anything but chaotic, and that was just how I liked it.

Needless to say, however, I had absolutely no idea of what I was getting into.


	2. the marauders

chapter two

the marauders

"And let us extend the warmest of welcomes to our newest member, Nymphadora Tonks," Dumbledore said, closing the Order meeting.

I shuddered. "It's Tonks, Professor," I said, looking up into his twinkling blue eyes. "You know I hate that name."

"Yes, but it's the only name you could expect, with Andromeda for a mother," Sirius acknowledged, and the entirety of the room burst out laughing. I grinned sheepishly and leaned back in my chair, already feeling quite at home here. It was strange. I didn't feel at home easily; I supposed that it was natural with being an Auror. Forced to move around so much, tracking and hunting and sometimes killing or even debasing yourself with ridiculous paperwork, it was hard to find a place that you could call home.

For a moment, my eyes drifted back to Remus, who was looking out the window, a weary frown on his face. I followed his gaze to see the waxing moon was nearly full; another week would do it. I glanced back to Remus. His shaggy brown hair, streaked with grey, shifted again as he moved, his chair scraping back as he rose. For a moment, his blue-grey eyes rested on mine, and I offered a shy smile. He returned it with his weary one. As he turned away, I frowned at the mystery that surrounded him. I had known him for barely more than a few hours, but there was still something there that intrigued me.

I pushed my chair back and got to my feet, and Sirius appeared at my elbow. "Come and meet some of these fine people, Tonks," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder and steering me toward a group of people. I couldn't help but smile. My cousin still made the women of the group bat their eyes and whisper behind their hands like schoolgirls, even though he would never quite be the man he had been, before Azkaban. I got lost in the chatter of these members of the order. One of them, Emmeline Vance, said to me, "Dumbledore said you're a Metamorphmagus, Tonks…"

I smiled. "Yes, I am." I screwed up my eyes, a firm image of her fixed in my brain, and thought, _Vance._ When I opened them, the circle of people burst into generous applause. I was an exact, living, breathing copy of the woman before me. Sirius laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. I morphed back to my real self, with pink hair again.

As the conversation wore on, I glanced behind me, an odd prickling feeling at the back of my neck. Remus Lupin, unnoticed by any of the groups that stood around laughing and talking, was making his way toward the door. In the politest voice I could muster, I said, "Excuse me," and slipped away from the group, stealthily following him. I caught up with him right when he reached the stairs in the foyer.

"Remus, there's dinner after," I said quietly, and I took a moment of pleasure in his surprise. "Oh-ho, so you didn't think I could be stealthy, could you?" I said, in a mock-indignant tone.

"Well, at least I'm aware of it now," he said, turning back to face me.

"Why aren't you staying?" I asked, leaning against the banister of the stairway.

He smiled, sweeping a strand of his light brown hair from his eyes. "I'm tired, and I don't think I would live to see daylight again if I stayed in that room with all of those bursting spirits." He nodded back towards the door.

"They'll be leaving soon," I said firmly. "You should stay, you look like you could use a good meal…"

He raised his eyebrows at me, but couldn't deny that it was true; under the baggy, patched robes he wore, I could tell that he was several sizes smaller than what they were. "See?" I said, triumphantly. "_Stay_, I'm sure Sirius'll be happy."

Almost as if on cue, Black emerged into the foyer and frowned at his friend. "Moony, honestly, what other company do I have in this world if you keep slipping off?" Then he saw me and smiled. "Ah, I see Tonks is of the same opinion."

"I was just telling him that he looked as though he could use a good meal," I said, nodding to Sirius.

"I've been saying it for ages, but he doesn't listen to me," the convict said grudgingly.

"Sirius!" called one of the voices from the kitchen. He scowled.

"Excuse me, friends, but duty calls…" Sighing, he vanished back into the kitchen.

"See?" I said, and drew my arm through Remus's, pulling him back toward the kitchen with me. "Stay, eat, drink, and be merry…"

I could tell that he couldn't suppress a smile as he allowed me to pull him back into the kitchen, and I smiled, too. Molly spotted us and smiled gratefully at me; perhaps she had experienced this before, Remus slipping away and leaving without getting a decent meal before heading home. As close to his side as I was, I could tell that he was far too thin to be healthy.

I led him back over to the group I'd been talking to and Sirius immediately clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Moony, good of you to join us," he said, taking a swig of whatever drink he had in his hand, and then his eyes flickered to mine, the smile there saying _thank you_ for keeping his friend from leaving.

I frowned slightly at Sirius, however. "Why do you always call him that?"

"Oh-ho!" Kingsley Shacklebolt said. "Has Nymphadora Tonks never heard the story of the infamous Marauders?"

"Spare me the theatrics," I said dryly, turning to look back at Sirius. "Would you care to tell me what he's talking about?"

"Have a seat, dear cousin, and Remus and I shall do our best to recount to you all the misbehaving moments of our teenage years," my cousin said, grinning wickedly, and I saw Remus sigh, knowing now that he would have no chance to slip away. I grinned as wickedly at him as Sirius had, and even though he shook his head at me, I saw him hiding a smile.

As the members of the Order that weren't staying walked out with goodbyes floating after them, those of us left gathered again at the table and Molly bustled in and out of the kitchen, heaping tray after tray of food before us. "Now, you may not believe this, Tonks, but Remus was a real troublemaker in his day." Sirius paused here to wink at Remus, who looked mildly amused at this announcement.

"You know that it was always you and James who loved it most, Padfoot…"

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it, too!" Sirius said sternly, taking another swig from his goblet.

"James Potter?" I asked in interest, scooping up a mouthful of potatoes and then adding, when my mouth was still full, "This food is delicious, Molly."

"Thank you, dear," she said, smiling at me as she sat down.

"Yes, we were the Marauders who called themselves Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs; me, Peter, Sirius, and James, in that order," Remus acknowledged. "You have to admit that we were rather full of ourselves, Sirius…"

I couldn't suppress a snort. Most unfortunately, I still had a mouthful of mashed potatoes, and the result did not bode well. In short, the rest of the table roared with laughter while I, bright red in the face, excused myself to the bathroom very hastily for just a moment.

When I returned, my skin morphed back to normal, the table was still in an uproar, particularly Sirius and the three red-headed boys, while Ginny sniffed with barely contained laughter and Hermione looked on in disapproval, even though the corners of her lips twitched occasionally, obviously quite against her will. "And then," Sirius choked out, barely able to speak through his bark-like laughter, "If you'll believe it, boys…"

I slid into my seat across from Remus and he smiled at me. "All better, I hope?"

Damn that blush. I managed a smile in return and said, "Yeah, thanks." My gaze travelled down the table to where Sirius and the others had given up on talking, giving themselves over fully to their laughter.

Remus followed my gaze. "I can't deny that I miss those days, as well," he said softly, turning his mug of tea in his hands. "It was the best time of our lives, even though we sometimes made mistakes that we regret."

"So you were friends with James Potter," I mused, leaning back and looking at Remus. His eyes darkened eerily. "What was he like?"

"The last person you'd expect to die at the hand of Voldemort, for one," he said quietly, and I raised an eyebrow at how easily he used the name. "He was so insistent on life. It was like he lived for nothing but _to _live." He smiled wanly. "Almost like Sirius, but they were still a bit different, in a way."

I nodded and sipped my drink. "How do you like the Order so far?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "I'm glad that I'm finally doing something. Being an Auror isn't excitement day after day, you know. At the moment I'm in a so-called 'paperwork phase' until my superiors decide that I'm worthy to do more."

Remus smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure that once they realize Voldemort is back, you'll have much more to do."

I sighed. "But will they ever?" I asked quietly. "They're so engrossed with ignoring the havoc breaking out right under their noses that it's going to be almost impossible to pick up the pieces by the time they are forced to admit that something's going on."

"That's why we're here," he said gently, "to make sure that some of the pieces are already put back into place when they realize that everything has blown up in their faces."

I smiled weakly. Suddenly, it felt as though I'd known Remus for ages, as though we'd been friends our entire lives. Sitting this close to him, I could see thin, faint scars crisscrossing his features in some places, and scars on his hands as well. Deciding not to ask, I said, "I guess that's why the idea of this whole Order attracted me so much. I got so sick of not doing anything for good, like I thought I would get to when I was made an Auror, and so when Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye told me, I just jumped on it."

He nodded. "I imagine that we'll have a lot of people joining for the reason you did."

We lapsed into a comfortable silence for a moment, watching the group at the other end of the table. "Who are all the red-heads?" I asked Remus, feeling a pang of jealousy for the shade of vibrant red hair that they all had managed. "I wish I could make my hair that red…"

He laughed softly. "The two identical ones are Fred and George, both Molly's children, they're going into their seventh year this fall. They've caused more problems at Hogwarts than James and Sirius, I'd wager." It was my turn to laugh. "The other one is Ron, he's Hermione's age, and then Ginny is a year younger than them."

"You seem like you know them well," I remarked, closely watching his face.

He nodded. "I taught at their school, during Hermione and Ron's third year."

"Why didn't you stay?"

He gave me a twisted smile. "It was the Defence Against the Dark Arts position."

"Ah. That explains everything. The curse got you, too?"

He laughed again, that soft laugh that seemed to be both happiness and sadness. "Yes, the curse managed to drive me out as well."

"Just out of curiosity, how were you driven out?"

Something shifted in his eyes. He shrugged, an attempt at casualness, but it didn't succeed. "Things change. I didn't feel much like staying anymore. Old memories…and James not even alive anymore…one year was enough."

There was something he wasn't telling me; I could sense that much. For the time being, though, I just nodded, accepting the explanation, knowing that someday, perhaps, I would know the full truth. Thoughtfully, I screwed up my eyes and thought, _Weasley red_, then grew my hair out longer so that I could survey the new colour. "Not bad," I said aloud, examining the ends, "but it's still not the same…"

Remus looked at me, startled, and as he began to laugh, my heart lifted again, although I was quite unable to explain why.

* * *

**A/N: And now, to my reviewers...**

**Mrs.OBLack: Thanks for your review, and sorry you had to wait this long for the update, I usually update much faster than this. I was finishing up **_Blurred, _**but now that it's finished, I'll have much more time for this story.**

**the singer: Thanks for your review, as always, and I'm glad you like my new story.**

**Ange de l'eau: Thanks for your review. How did you like the ending of **_Blurred_? **lol**

**Pheo: I don't know if this update classifies as "soon", but usually I update faster than this. I hope you continue to enjoy the story!**

**Meriwether Weslar: Big sis ;). I like how Tonks met Lupin, too, it seems just right for them to just kind of _stumble _into meeting one another, lol. Thanks for your review.**


	3. firelight

chapter three

firelight

I glanced down the table at Remus, my brow furrowing worriedly. He'd been even quieter than usual at dinner tonight, accepting any food passed to him and keeping his eyes on his plate. I could still see the weariness in his features, however, weighing even heavier on him than what I assumed was usual, as I'd only known him a few days. As Molly began to clean away the plates, I slipped out of my own seat and slid into the vacant one across from him, noticing how he avoided everyone's eyes, and how no one was bothering him at all tonight, not even the half-hearted attempts to get him to join in the talk and laughter. Either he didn't notice me sit down or he chose to ignore me; either way, I wasn't going to let him get away with it. "Hey," I said softly; I noticed how he was the only one who wasn't done with dinner, still eating. It amazed me, how much food Molly could stuff him with and yet, he still did not gain a pound, or at least didn't appear to.

He glanced up in surprise, saw me, and managed a warm, if wan, smile. "Hello, Nymphadora."

I made a face, but didn't protest at my name this time. He looked far too weary to be troubled with a detail like that tonight. "What's wrong?" I asked quietly. "You've been more quiet than even _you _usually are."

He didn't look up this time. "I'm not feeling very well, that's all," he said, his voice even quieter than it had been before, and saved himself from saying anymore by taking another bite out of a chicken leg, chewing the meat slowly before swallowing.

"Anything I can do?" I asked sympathetically, thinking that he _did _look a bit peaky – he was paler than usual, and although his appetite seemed quite healthier than in the last few days, it was almost as though he ate the food mechanically, without any real pleasure, without feeling any real hunger.

"'Fraid not," he said, stretching and smiling slightly at me once more. "It'll pass, eventually. It always does."

We fell silent, both of us watching a suddenly renewed argument between Molly and Sirius – about Harry again, I guessed. Abruptly I stood and touched Remus's arm. "Come on," I said gently. "If you're not feeling well, you probably don't want to hear this, it'll make you worse. Let's go to the front room; we can take Hermione and Ginny with us, they probably don't need to hear it either…"

He smiled gratefully up at me. "Thank you."

He got to his feet as I turned to Hermione and Ginny, both of whom were looking carefully away from the argument ensuing between Sirius and Molly and talking very quietly between them, no doubt discussing the argument. "Would you two like to join us in the front room? I don't want to be witness to it, and we'll be needed up there if Mrs. Black goes off again, the old bat that she is."

Ginny giggled and both girls got to their feet to follow Remus and I. Sirius and Molly's shouts echoed after us, but once we were in the front room, they had faded considerably. Remus sat down in the armchair near the dark fireplace with a sigh; I pointed my wand at the empty grate and muttered, _"Incendio."_ Immediately a merry fire sprang up in the place, and he passed me another grateful smile before shifting into a more comfortable position.

"Tonks, can you do that pig nose again?" Ginny asked me, grinning. "It's so funny…"

I entertained the girls for about ten minutes with various feature changes – including one where I turned myself into Hermione, which she did not appreciate – and then I said, mock-severely, "Now, girls, you should be doing your homework!" and both of them went upstairs and returned with their armload of summer work. I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. "Fine, suit yourselves." Sirius had joined us, looking slightly miffed, and sat down in a chair near the window, stewing, staring out the window with a longing in his eyes. I didn't doubt that he would have liked very much to get out of his prison for just a few hours. I stretched out on the couch, in a good position to watch Remus without him realizing it.

He looked so tired tonight, but he wouldn't close his eyes, instead choosing to gaze into the fire, and I could tell that he was deep in thought. The gossamer-fine strands of silver and grey in his hair stood out, glinting in the firelight, and the edges of the light brown strands seemed to be touched with sun at the ends, shimmering. The premature lines on his face seemed even deeper, shadows cast over them by the light from the flames. I glanced over at Sirius. He, too, had noticed Remus's disposition tonight. He frowned, met my worried eyes, and turned into a dog with a soft noise of rustling fur. Softly, he padded over to Remus and nudged the hand dangling off the arm of the chair, whining. Absentmindedly, almost, Remus stroked the dog's head once and then said, "No, Padfoot. Shoo." Looking highly put-off now, Sirius left the room; on the stairway, I heard the click of nails change abruptly to the padding of bare feet.

I could bear his lack of happiness no longer. "Remus?" I called softly, and he stirred from his intense stare at the fire, turning to look at me. "Play me in a game of chess?" I asked.

He sighed heavily. "Not tonight, Nymphadora."

"It's Tonks," I grumbled, not loud enough for him to hear, and then said, "Please?" I gave him my best pleading look, the one that says, _I'm bored, and if you don't do something about it, you are a **bad **person._

He gave in and sighed. "Alright, alright…"

I grinned widely and conjured an overstuffed armchair, a table, and a chess set into the space that was left over in front of the fire. "You set up," I ordered, "and I'll make tea." Before he could protest, I was off toward the kitchen, leaving him no choice but to start setting up the pieces, most of which were grumbling about being used this late at night.

When I padded into the kitchen, Molly was cleaning away the last of the dishes, looking distinctly dishevelled. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked me, upon seeing my less-than-perky face.

I shrugged. "It's Remus," I said, drawing up a teakettle and setting the water on to boil. "I'm worried about him. He seems so tired tonight. Do you know what's wrong with him?"

It seemed that Molly flinched a little when I said that, but in the dim light of the dismal kitchen, I couldn't be sure. "No, dear, he's ill very often, though," she said. "Poor man…"

I frowned, feeling that there was something that she wasn't telling me, but accepted her explanation. "Think tea will cheer him up any?" I asked her, now adding the boiling water to some tea bags.

Molly smiled at me. "You're very thoughtful."

I shrugged. "I hate it when people don't feel well. Their mood is contagious. And besides, he seems like he's worried about something; I just want to help."

She was smiling even wider. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it, Tonks."

"Enough to stop calling me 'Nymphadora'?"

She chuckled. "Perhaps not that much."

I sighed. "It was worth a try." I gave her a smile and then levitated the tray with the tea on it, knowing that if I carried it, I would drop it, and that was the _last _thing I wanted to do at the moment.

When I returned to the front room, Hermione and Ginny had gone. "They went upstairs," Remus explained to me as I set the tea down. "Thank you," he added gratefully as he took a sip of the tea.

"You're welcome," I said brightly, then looked down at the pieces. "Now, I'm warning you, be patient with me, I was never very good at this game…"

He managed a smile. "Patience is plenty tonight."

As we began to play, I noticed how his mind seemed to slowly come off of whatever heavy, dark thing he had been pondering; the game seemed to be distracting him enough. "So," I said, wincing as I watched one of his knights wrestle a bishop of mine to the board, "how long have you been in the Order?"

"I was one of those who survived the First War," he said. "Both Sirius and I were in the Order the first time, as were James and Lily, Mad-Eye, and a few others. Molly, Arthur, and Kingsley just joined this time round."

"What was it like, last time?" I asked quietly, moving a rook.

"Terrible," he said, without hesitation. "We were losing. It was like every time we won a battle, we lost five; there was no end to the deaths of our friends that we saw in the newspapers, and the Aurors were trying, and not succeeding, to catch any Death Eaters they found…it was as though the world was ending. It was chaos; it was Hell." He contemplated his next move, his brow furrowed. I watched his face carefully. "It was as though we were in this long nightmare that none of us could wake up from. And then, well…James and Lily were killed, and of course, Harry reduced Voldemort to not even a shadow of his former self…"

"It must have been terrible for you," I probed softly, "losing James."

He was silent for a long moment. I was afraid that he wouldn't reply, that I had pushed him too far. When he next spoke, his voice fought for control. "I lost all three of my best friends in the same night," he said, the strain in his voice obvious. "James was dead; Sirius was wanted for turning them in to Voldemort; Peter had fled, of course, and I thought him dead for years after." He was silent again, for another long moment. "The years following were the worst of my life. I'd never been so alone."

Even the chess pieces had stopped their constant back-and-forth, falling silent at long last. I reached out and touched Remus's hand, then slipped mine around his, drawing it toward me, and squeezed, hard. This was a man whose scars went much further than skin deep; I could see that, now. "It must have been great, finally knowing that Sirius was innocent," I said, looking into his blue-grey eyes.

He smiled. "It was like being alive again. That whole year had been like coming back from the dead. I was teaching my best friend's son, I finally found my other best friend again, and…it was almost overwhelming, being that alive again."

I was silent, too, for a moment, until his queen tackled my rook to the board. I sighed in exasperation. "Well, at least you're feeling good enough to cream me at chess, anyway."

He laughed. By gods, I had made him laugh! My heart lifted again. "Checkmate," he said, and looked up at me, an amused look in his eyes.

I looked down at the board. "Well, _damn_," I muttered. "I told you I was no good at this game." I smiled up at him mockingly. "Well done."

He laughed again, and then stood, picking up his threadbare cloak from the back of the armchair and draining the last of his tea. "Good game, Nymphadora."

"It's _Tonks_," I said, but with no real conviction in my tone. "Have a safe trip home."

"You as well," he said, and walked to the door. I heard him pause there, though, and look back. "Nymphadora?"

I turned in my chair, legs tucked underneath me, and leaned over the back of it, looking up at him, and said, "Remus?"

Out of the shadows of the firelight, I saw his small smile. His voice was quiet and grateful when he next spoke. "Thank you."

Then he was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him, and just before it closed, I saw the nearly full moon looming in the sky, grinning down at us all.

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	4. prowling

chapter four

prowling

The next day, I Disapparated from my small flat and appeared outside of 12 Grimmauld Place. Pushing open the door to the kitchen, I fully expected to see Remus Lupin look up and spare a small, weary smile on me. Even though I'd barely known him a week, it felt like tradition, to walk in there that early in the morning and see him sitting there, without fail, reading the Daily Prophet and drinking a cup of tea, glancing up only briefly to smile at me, and then go back to reading the paper, and I would sit down across from him, drawing up my own cup of tea. That was the way it _always _was. Even in the space of a week, a routine could be established that was terrible, even ominous, to break. That morning, though, I pushed open the door, and Remus Lupin wasn't there. The place he usually occupied was bare; not even today's _Prophet _or half-empty cup of tea was left on the table in the space where he always sat. For a moment I just stood there, frowning at the spot, the door swinging shut behind me, completely unnerved to see how empty it was, as though he'd never even been there, as though he'd never even existed. That was how empty it was, and it scared me.

"What's wrong, Tonks?" Arthur Weasley asked me, looking up from the table.

I forced a smile, even though it felt alien and unnatural on my face. "I'm fine. Wotcher, Arthur, Molly." Moving around to get a cup of tea, I said in a forcedly casual tone, "Where's Remus?"

There was silence for a second, and then I turned around, trying to hide the worry line in my brow, even though I knew that I was not succeeding. "Nothing happened…he didn't get hurt on a mission or anything?"

"Oh," said Molly, looking alarmed, "of course not, dear. He just wasn't feeling well today, that's all."

"Oh," I said, feeling slightly put out – after all, he'd showed up at the meeting last night, and he'd been sick then – but then I noticed the way that Molly and Arthur were avoiding both each other's eyes and mine, and I couldn't help but feel that there was something about this whole spiel that they weren't telling me. "Anything I could do?"

"He'll be fine in a day or so," Arthur said, appearing unconcerned. I almost wanted to scream at him, and then calmed myself. _Tonks…what are you doing? He's fine, you know that. _

So I smiled and went about my business the rest of the day, even though inside I was grinding my teeth. It was so strange, not seeing him, not talking to him. Even though I'd known him only for the space of a week…could it have been a mere week?…I felt as though we were the best of friends, as though we couldn't go a day without at least communicating _in some way. _After last night, especially, it seemed as though suddenly we had some sort of deep bond. I knew that Remus was not a very outgoing man, and that he had told me the things he did touched me deeply. Therefore, the day was an agony, but I bore through it. Work was a particular sore; how could I concentrate on paperwork when someone was ill? I noticed, also, that Sirius seemed to have gone to ground when I made it back to 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus wasn't at the meeting that night, nor did he show for dinner.

Finally, though, just as night was falling, I found Sirius in the front room, _asleep_, of all things.

"Wotcher, Sirius," I said darkly, plunking down on the sofa. He opened his eyes groggily and groaned. "You wouldn't care for a game of chess, I imagine?"

"No," he groaned, then turned over, glancing out the window to see the full moon there, and closed his eyes again. I kicked him, and he grunted.

"Honestly, you're in here day in and day out, how can you be _sleepy_?" I demanded; I felt far too restless myself to be the slightest inclined toward bed.

"There's nothing else to do, is there?" Sirius said grumpily, looking up at me rather reluctantly. "And speaking of chess, dear cousin…what were you and Remus doing in here last night playing that dratted game for so long? I thought those pieces would never shut up."

"You were upstairs," I said peevishly, lighting a fire in the grate. "How could you have heard?"

"I came down for a drink," he said, equally mulish. "He seemed happier, at any rate. Hats off to you. He's a right old hag when it comes round to this time of the month."

I frowned at this. "Erm, why?"

"He's always ill, never fails, right around this time," he said, but he stuttered over his first few words, and Sirius Black is _always _smooth. I knew, right then, and right there, that something was wrong.

"There's something that none of you are telling me," I said softly, "isn't there?"

His silence was enough proof. The next instant, I was on top of him, my wand out and pointing at his throat. He glared up at me. "Sirius Black, you tell me this _instant_ what is wrong with him," I said, trying to control the shaking anger and fear in my voice.

"Get off me," he said, his tone dangerous.

"Not until you tell me," I said, my voice shaking freely now.

In an instant, I regretted that I'd ever crossed Sirius Black; somehow, he'd switched our roles quite easily, so that now _he _was on top of _me_, my own wand pointing at my throat. "I might have been in Azkaban for twelve years, Tonks, but it hasn't done anything to my strength," he growled. "Now, are we going to discuss this civilly, or is it necessary for me to continue to restrain you?"

I glowered up at him. "I'll be civil, but you'd better answer."

He let me up. "It's not my place, Tonks. You have to understand that. Remus has an…illness…that puts him out of commission for about twenty-four hours once a month. That's all."

"What kind of illness?" I asked, my heart thumping painfully hard in my chest.

He shook his head. "I told you before, it's not my place. He's the only one who can tell you, and Voldemort be merciful if you outright ask him. He's sensitive, Remus is."

"I noticed," I muttered, tucking my legs underneath me as I stared into the fire, feeling oddly drained.

Sirius regarded me for a moment, and then said quietly, "You seem to be good for him. I mean, it's not everybody who'd go after him and make him come back to the meeting when they've just met him. He's really quiet, and he doesn't mix with people much, but I know he'd like to. He's always wanted to, it's just that something inside him keeps him from getting close to anybody. It took James and I forever to drag him out of his shell. Even after we became friends, he always seemed to think that we were going to drop him the instant something better came along."

"How did he end up like that?"

Sirius's eyes darkened, and as he turned from me to look at the fire, I knew better than to ask. "I can't tell you that, Tonks. Only Remus can, and I hope you're patient, because it might take a while." He stood up and stretched. "I can see I'm going to get no peace with you around. If you'd excuse me?" He strode swiftly to the door, but then glanced back a moment. "Tonks."

I turned to look at him. "What?"

"Don't think less of him, when you find out," he said, his voice low, almost pleading. "He can't take that."

"Can't you just _tell _me?" I begged him.

He left without another word.

I stayed still on the sofa for a long while after, gazing into the flames and thinking – or trying _not _to think – about Remus. Had this "condition" been the reason that Molly and Arthur had avoided my eyes that morning? The reason that they acted as if it was almost normal, but not normal with me around? Was I not trustworthy enough to indulge the secret to? I bristled at the thought.

But Sirius had said that only Remus could tell me. _Maybe it's simply for privacy's sake_, I thought, suddenly very tired. _Maybe he doesn't feel the need to tell me just yet. _But why had Sirius's eyes darkened that way when he spoke of it? What was wrong with my new friend? I was suddenly restless again, and got up to pace the floor.

I awoke very suddenly to a muffled _thump_, bolting upright and panting, panicking at the complete lack of light; the darkness seemed to press down on my eyes, blindfolding me, making me feel unbearably vulnerable. The nightmare had already faded by the time I grasped my wand, rasping, "_Lumos_!" The tip flared. Apparently, I'd fallen asleep on the couch of the front room of 12 Grimmauld Place, and the fire had died down to glowing embers, the reason for the almost unnatural darkness in the room. I didn't like it, not at all. I glanced around, still vaguely uneasy about that muffled _thump_. It had come from upstairs, I was sure of that; damned if I wasn't going to investigate it.

All thoughts of Remus temporarily driven from my mind, I whispered, "_Nox_," to put the wand light out, knowing that I would need stealth if I wanted to make it up those stairs unnoticed. As silently as I could, I tiptoed to the door of the front room and glanced around the hallway. There was no light coming from under the kitchen door, so I could safely assume that Hermione and the Weasleys were all in bed, if not asleep. The house-elf heads stood out eerily from the walls, and the dim half-light coming in from the street lamps outside made their ears and noses cast odd shadows, so that they seemed like grotesquely carved figurines rather than once-living creatures. I shuddered, and started creeping up the stairs, praying that my clumsiness would not surface now.

At the first landing, I listened carefully. From the sound of it, everyone was still asleep, miraculously. That thump really had been rather loud. I peered around, tempted to light my wand again, but decided that it wasn't worth it. Then, suddenly, the sound came again: a muffled thump, and what sounded suspiciously like a moan. My stomach clenched rather suddenly, and I crept onward, toward another set of stairs that led to the attic. At the foot of this set of stairs, I glanced around and listened again. This time the groan was less willing to present itself. I must have waited for five minutes, still as a statue, holding my breath, until finally, there was a last noise – a weak whimper.

Quickly now, I slipped up the steps and listened at the door. Inside, Sirius's voice said softly, "I dunno, Moony, I reckon you should tell her soon."

There came a faint growl. I frowned. Did Sirius keep a wild dog up here or what? And why had he used Remus's nickname? Was Remus possibly inside with him? Slowly, I cracked open the door. The result was, once again, instantaneous and disastrous; Sirius's voice roared, "_Muffliato_!" and someone launched himself at me. We rolled down the stairs, grappling, and when we finally landed at the bottom, I was sore and bruised and pinned to the ground by Sirius.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled.

"I heard something," I said defensively, trying to ignore that Sirius's grip on my arms was painfully tight.

"You didn't hear _anything_," Sirius snapped. "Go home, Tonks, and stop prowling round here at night. Let's forget that this ever happened."

He let go of me and was already inside the attic, shutting the door, by the time I even thought to move. Lying there, hurt, bruised, and bewildered, I could barely even think. When I finally did stumble to my feet, I got out of 12 Grimmauld Place as fast as I could, unwilling to stay there any longer.

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	5. the dreams

**A/N: **_Italics _are dreams or thoughts.**

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chapter five

the dreams

-tonks-

_I lay on a bed with a threadbare blanket, dozing and nearly drifting off to sleep, when, suddenly, a powerful animal surged onto the bed next to me, grinning wolfishly, its teeth gleaming in the moonlight when it opened its maw to yawn. For a moment, I was scared; I recognized the animal, which was not actually an animal. It was a werewolf…he_ _was a werewolf. Suddenly, though, my fear was overwhelmed by a sense of relief when he didn't attack, but instead leaned back against me as he lay down, body pressed to mine from chest to thigh. I could count each and every one of the creature's ribs as I ran my fingers through his tawny fur, feathery and soft against my fingers and flecked, occasionally, with grey. The moon spilled in, creating a silvery luminescence on the wolf's hair in places. Smiling, I wrapped my arms around him and stroked his stomach gently; he emitted a soft whine of pleasure, and I buried my face in his tawny coat, almost instantly drifting off to sleep._

_When I next woke, it was to feel that the wolf's erratic breathing had turned to the regular, deep breathing of a man, whose warm body was pressed to mine, his chin against my shoulder blade, his arms wrapped gently around me, his breath stirring my hair. Light fell in shafts through the small window, spilling onto us both so that his hair glimmered with sunbursts at the ends. I turned to that I could bury my face in his chest, reaching up to run my fingers through his silky, light brown hair before closing my eyes again. The warmth was unimaginable and indescribable, the most wonderful thing I had ever experienced and yet…it was drifting away from me now…_

-remus-

_It was the first time he had dreamed after becoming a man again following his transformation. There was a woman in the bed beside him, and he was still a werewolf, dazed under the influence of the Wolfsbane potion; she was stroking his fur, her breathing evening out now, no longer fearful. He half-closed his eyes; the constant motion of her hand felt undeniably wonderful, and when he finally drifted off to sleep, he sensed that soon she followed._

_When he woke once more, he was a man again, his arms wrapped around the woman, streaming bars of sunlight falling through the window. He breathed deeply of her scent; his face was buried in her shoulder blade. Sleepily, she turned and buried her face in his chest, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair once before dropping off to sleep again. He couldn't help but smile, and brought her a little closer, the warmth from both of their bodies keeping any chill that might have been present at bay._

-tonks-

_No, _I told myself firmly, keeping my eyes shut tight. _It wasn't a dream. It wasn't. Things are just dark because you've got your eyes closed, that's all. When you open them, he'll be there…_

I took a deep breath, counted to three, and opened my eyes. He wasn't there, whoever he had been; it was all I could do not to curl into a ball and cry. I wanted the warmth back, probably too much to be good for me. I wanted _him _back. _You don't know who he is, Tonks, _that annoying voice said in the back of my mind. _You might never know. It was just a dream; dreams aren't reality._

"Shut up," I said weakly, and turned over, snatching up my pillow and bringing it down on top of my head, blocking out the sunlight. "Just shut up."

-remus-

When he finally woke up, sun was filtering in through the window. He groaned, bringing his pillow down to clamp over his head, which was throbbing unpleasantly; the light didn't help. The morning after a transformation always felt, unbearably, like a hangover, complete with headache, inability to see, and cranky mood. Finally, he forced himself to take several deep breaths, and then sat up, looking around the room and trying to ascertain if any damage had been done. Under the Wolfsbane potion, the furnishings were usually safe, but the wolf was very strong, even in its increasingly old age.

There had been something different about last night, though.

Remembering the dream, he couldn't suppress the smile that touched his lips. It made him look a great deal younger, and apparently the mirror in the attic room thought so, too; it wheezed, "Do that more often, wolfy, and maybe you'd lose those lines."

"Oh, shut up," he grumbled, and then got up to shower and dress before heading downstairs.

-tonks-

Buried beneath a blanket of totally unreasonable misery, I suddenly had the sense to come out of my stupor and stare, dumbfounded, at the clock. The clock, which read 10:35 AM, and was blinking rather slyly at me. _Ten thirty-five?_ I thought in panic. If Remus was feeling better, if he was at 12 Grimmauld Place…and I _wasn't there_…

I took the fastest shower of my life, not even bothering to morph my hair, which had turned a dark, shiny brown overnight, and then I Disapparated, barely with the patience to knock on the door of 12 Grimmauld Place, softly enough that Mrs. Black did not go off. Molly Weasley answered and pulled me inside. "Good morning, Tonks."

"Wotcher, Molly," I said, trying my very best to put on my usual, perky smile. It seemed to work. "Sorry if I slept in a little late, I don't reckon there's any breakfast left?"

"We all enjoy a late morning once in a while," she said kindly. "As a matter of fact, we're only halfway through breakfast; you'll join us, of course?"

"Sure," I said, nodding enthusiastically, my stomach rumbling when I thought of Molly's cooking. She was the ideal mother – good cook, perfect worrywart. I had to smile at the thought, and tried not to get my hopes up too much as we made our way to the kitchen; if Remus wasn't there, well, he was still sick, then, and probably not the best to be around, anyway. I couldn't help but think, though, of how my heart would sink when I would walk into the kitchen and see his absence again…

"Molly, I'm just going to use the bathroom, I'll be back in a flash," I said, turning back down the hall.

"Alright, dear, we'll be sure to save something for you." She disappeared into the kitchen; I made sure not to look through the door to see who was there. I went into the bathroom and stared gloomily into the dank little mirror at my appearance, wondering what I could do with the dark mass of hair that bobbed around my shoulders, curling up a little at the ends. Squinting my eyes shut, I tried to morph – no go. _This is what happens when you're not happy, _I told myself, annoyed. _Leave it like that, then, it's not too suspicious…_

I sighed and left the bathroom, but immediately upon stepping into the hall, I crashed into someone, falling against them; strong arms caught me and heaved me up, setting me on my feet again. I looked up, into Remus's light eyes, and I felt an unrestrained smile break across my face. "Remus!" I said, trying to hide the note of delight in my tone. "Sorry, it seems that I can't help but crash into you every time you make an appearance…feeling better, I hope?"

He smiled warmly at me. "Yes, as a matter of fact, much better. Did you just get here?"

I blushed. "I only just woke up. I guess my alarm wasn't set."

"And yet you still couldn't resist the allure of Molly's cooking."

I laughed. "I can't cook worth anything, it's nice to have such good food after a diet of peanut butter and jelly…"

He laughed, the hoarse, soft sound that I'd grown accustomed to in times of late. Looking closely at his face, I noticed that he looked immensely tired; there were dark circles under his eyes, and the scars seemed much more pronounced than usual, but he still looked a great deal happier than when I'd seen him a few days ago. "I suppose we've missed breakfast," he said, glancing longingly toward the kitchen door.

"Molly said they were only halfway through. Let's go; I'm starving." I slipped my arm through his and proceeded to tug him toward the kitchen, not that he put up much of a fight; it seemed that he was hungry, as well.

Sirius was staring grumpily at his food when we walked in, but upon seeing both Remus and I, he looked up and grinned. "Aye, Moony! Feeling better?"

Remus smiled. "Very well, Padfoot, very well." We both sat down, and without further ado, Remus pulled a plate of potatoes toward him – along with bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, vegetables, and orange juice – and began to pile generous helpings onto his plate. As he began to scarf down his food, I couldn't help but grin. It was a very, very different Remus; it was as though he'd starved himself and was only now deciding that it had been foolish.

"Decided to gain some weight, have you?" I asked teasingly as I tucked into my own breakfast.

He didn't bother to answer me, only smiled, slightly abashed, and continued to wolf down his food, but at a slightly slower rate.

_Wait, _I thought suddenly, as the lighter clicked in my brain, and I frowned, struggling to think. The shutter had closed again, though, and I shrugged, wondering what had sparked that sudden almost-brain wave, but then forgot about it, content to stuff myself with Molly's excellent cooking and indulge in the warm chatter of the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, where everything seemed much more content than it had ever been before. I even managed a smile at Sirius, at least deciding to forgive what had happened the night before, whatever it had _been _that had happened. Remembering the dream, I smiled, just a little, not enough for anyone to see. Maybe it was a bit far-fetched, but at least I had a nice almost-memory to lure me to sleep on the nights when sleep refused to come.

About a week later, I walked into the kitchen in a sulky mood and plopped down on a bench, slamming a stack of parchment down before me and nearly breaking my quill and spilling a few drops of ink as well. Sirius didn't even flinch. "Bad day, Tonks?" he asked, appearing very uninterested as he continued to study the old carvings in the table.

I chose not to reply, instead gritting my teeth over the obviously false claim of misused aconite coupled with some other ridiculous claims, but the aconite one, that took the cake. Filed complaint read:

Name: Arel Worthint

Occupation: Salesman, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour

Complaint: Death Eaters entered my home in Surrey late last Saturday night and proceeded to use an unknown spell to cut open various parts of my body, then spilling aconite oil all over me.

Injuries: Crusty covering on all skin affected.

I sighed audibly and looked round the kitchen. I'd never been a great shakes at remembering the uses and affects of magical herbs, but I was _certain _that aconite oil had not done what this man suggested; somewhere in my vague memory, I thought it had been mentioned that aconite was fatal. Finally, my eyes landed on the exact man who could help me: Remus.

I'd barely even noticed he was there. He was down the table a bit, doing some paperwork for the Order by the looks of it, and just as I looked at him he reached up to scratch behind his ear with the tip of his quill, frowning thoughtfully. He was so quiet that he very nearly blended into the background; I tried to remember whether or not I'd even seen him when I walked in. From the scattered collection of memories that I'd heard from Sirius, Remus had been prefect and a perfectionist, and certainly a perfectionist would know exactly what effects aconite caused. Not to mention that he read books day in and day out, and I was certain that if he hadn't learned about aconite at a point in time, he would at least know of a book that mentioned it.

Without further ado, I got up, taking my stack of parchment with me, and slid onto the seat across from Remus. He looked up at me and gave a small smile. "Bad day, Nymphadora?"

I gritted my teeth at the use of my first name. Remus was a good friend, but when, oh _when_, was he going to start calling me Tonks? I decided that protesting against it at the moment would not be in my favour, and smiled instead. "Wotcher, Remus. Look, there's this misuse of some magical plant complaint that I'm supposed to be proving wrong – well, investigating, but I'm _certain_ that it's wrong, it doesn't make any sense – and I've never had a memory for the effects of said plants, so d'you reckon you could help me out?"

"Certainly." He tilted his head slightly to see the complaint. "What does it pertain to?"

"Aconite, and the complainer claims that…" I frowned and looked at Remus, who'd gone oddly still, looking at me in a strange way. Sirius, too, had suddenly halted in his inspection of the table, though he didn't seem to dare looking up. "Remus, what?"

"Nothing," he said quietly. "Aconite is better known as wolfsbane. What did the complaint say about how this was administered?"

"Arel Worthint claims that Death Eaters entered his home late last Saturday night and proceeded to use some unknown spell to cut open various parts of his body, and then spilt aconite oil over his head."

"If they had done that," Remus said, his voice still quiet, "the man would be dead. Aconite oil, when absorbed directly through a break in the skin, is deadly unless you know a countering potion, and from the looks of the complaint…" I pushed it toward him. "Crusty covering on skin affected," he muttered. "Wartcap powder."

"Ah." The missing strands of memory clicked together suddenly. "I owe you, Remus, I would have never remembered…"

He smiled, though it seemed strained. "No thanks needed."

As I continued to work on through the rest of the complaints, though, he seemed oddly reserved and even quieter than usual, as though he was withdrawing into a deep place in his thoughts where he was simply thinking on something difficult and dark. It disturbed me greatly, and I wondered what it was that had sparked the sudden introverted behaviour. He said, "Nothing," when I asked him what was wrong, and so eventually I gave up and went back to investigating my complaints, even though my mind was not at all focused on the case of Gregory's Unctuous Unction gone out of control.

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**Author's Notes: **

**Aconite: also known as wolfsbane. Fatal when absorbed through skin or swallowed.**

**Unctuous Unction: invented by Gregory the Smarmy. Convinces the drinker that the giver is his/her very best friend.**

**_from hp-lexicon_**

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**Elizabeth Theresa: You're absolutely right about the indulge/divulge business, I can't believe I missed that! Thanks for your review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. **

**the singer: Don't worry about the venting thing, I do it all the time, but in a much more abstract way. Thanks for your review!**

**slightly so: I liked Sirius's actions, too. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Kerichi: Hah, I didn't even know I had to enable the anonymous reviews. I'm fairly new to the site and had no idea, so thank you very much for pointing it out to me. I'm not certain if Tonks will visit her parents, but we'll see. The revelation of Remus's "furry little problem" is yet to come. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for your review!**


	6. starlight

**A/N: **Wrote this during Health, when I was trying so hard to ignore the movie Supersize Me. Enjoy!

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chapter six 

starlight

I sat by the fire, contemplating it as I rubbed on an excessive amount of wonderfully smelling lip-gloss; granted, it was a Muggle thing, but it sure smelled good. My mind, as it turned over various thoughts, landed on the dream once more, and I struggled to recall the watery details of the man; it was so much easier to describe the wolf. He was big, for a werewolf, at least, and I sensed that he was a very powerful wizard during the rest of the month; the wolf was oddly thin, I knew as well, since I'd been able to count his ribs so clearly. The tawny, light-brown colour of his coat, flecked with grey, made me smile as I remembered the feathery smoothness of the hair, of my fingers playing through it.

The man, though, had been very different from his alternate wolf persona; he'd seemed relaxed and quiet. Granted, he'd been sleeping, but there's still a lot you can tell from a person when they're asleep. Why hadn't I looked up, so that I could see his face? I bemoaned my mistake now that I hadn't had the dream in a while. I ached to experience it again.

I was aware that Remus had glanced up sharply and realized that I was still rubbing the lip-gloss over my lips; I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before, as the smell was almost overpowering. I heard him take a deep sniff and squelched a giggle, realizing that he probably smelled the flavour of watermelon patch that this lip-gloss happened to be. Soon enough, his eyes landed on me, as I was the only one other than he in the room; luckily I'd put the stuff away. "Play me in a game of chess, Remus?" I asked as innocently as I could, smiling at him.

He sighed, as though I'd just requested him to carry the world on his shoulders, but obliged and put down his book, drawing up the table and chess set. I smiled brightly. "Excellent. I'll make the tea!"

With that, I stood up and bounded out of the room. He called after me, his voice wry, "Couldn't we switch roles once in a while?" and my only answer was a cheery laugh that echoed back to him.

In the kitchen, I found Sirius rummaging through various cabinets and grumbling to himself. "Wotcher, cousin," I said cheerfully, pulling out the necessities for tea. He grumbled an unenthusiastic reply. "What're you doing?" I asked, contemplating the bars of chocolate in the cupboard just in front of me. I knew that Remus liked chocolate; I'd seen him eating it like it was the Elixir of Life after he'd been ill.

Sirius's voice sounded from inside the cabinet, where he'd stuck his head. "I'm trying to dig out all the hoarded items that dear _Kreacher _has bestowed upon the corners of _my _cupboards," his voice, slightly muffled, told me grumpily. "He's a right old nut, saving everything he can get his hands on, he knows that I'm going to get rid of it as soon as I can."

"Did you ever think that there might be something valuable that's worth saving?" I asked, now adding the steaming water to a tea bag in my mug, which was an electric blue striped with bubblegum pink

"No," he said firmly, drawing his head out of the cabinet. I reached in past him to grab what I'd figured out was Remus's favourite mug; it was a dark, earthy, forest green, and I felt that it suited him perfectly. As I dropped a teabag in and began pouring water over it, Sirius said, a cocky grin now plastered to his face, "You're playing chess with dear old Moony again, aren't you?"

I looked at him curiously, trying to deduce which of the infamous Black grins this was – teasing, mocking, I-know-something-you-don't-know, sarcastic, or just absolutely ridiculous? "Yes, dear cousin, I am playing chess with 'dear old Moony' again," I snorted, grabbing one of the bars of chocolate from the cupboard.

Leaning against the counter, he remarked in a would-be casual voice, "You're sure spending a lot of time with him."

I shrugged. "He's the only one of the Order who's constantly here, and he's really nice, anyway. I like talking to him."

The grin was growing now, and I noted that he seemed to be trying to subdue it. "Black, just _what _is so funny?" I asked crossly, beginning to levitate the tray bearing our tea and chocolate.

It was a damn good thing that the tray was only an inch off the counter, because it crashed back down when Sirius said, "Oh, I dunno, it's just that you seem to rather like him a lot…I did notice how impeccably _happy _you seemed when you walked into the kitchen with him the other day…"

Furious, I wheeled on Sirius after making the hasty judgement that the tea and chocolate had not been harmed. "You're crazy," I snapped. "Remus is my _friend_. How could you accuse me of such a thing?"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying…" And he waltzed out of the kitchen with that impossible Black grin still plastered on his face. As he wandered down the hall, the kitchen door swinging shut behind him, I couldn't help but want to take out my wand and curse him. As it was, I did take out my wand, but I didn't curse him, most unfortunately, instead using it to levitate the rattled tea tray and then carefully walking through the kitchen door, deciding to put the incident – and Sirius's impossible grin – from my mind.

When I'd reached the room again, Remus had set up the board and was contemplating the pieces with a slightly amused look on his face as they squeaked out various things at him, things that suggested he wouldn't dare think of sacrificing them again and so forth. I set the tea tray down on the empty space near the table and settled in my comfortable chair next to the fire, glancing up at Remus. He looked a great deal healthier than when I'd glimpsed his face in the dim hallway a few weeks ago; the scars on his face weren't as pronounced anymore, and he looked like he was getting a decent amount of sleep. I still wondered about those scars, but I didn't dare ask. Somehow, I sensed that they went much further than skin deep.

He reached for his tea, still staring absentmindedly at the board, and his hand brushed the chocolate. Looking vaguely surprised, he glanced at me. "How did you…"

"How did I know that you're addicted to chocolate? The fact that you wolfed it down as if there was no tomorrow after you were sick," I reported smartly, pulling my feet up under me as I contemplated the board. He laughed and bit into the bar, and I smiled.

The game began, interrupted only by occasional soft remarks, but when he leaned across the table to move one of the pieces that was closer to me, he suddenly paused and inhaled sharply. "It was you," he said in relief, leaning back again. "What _is _that smell?"

"Watermelon Patch," I said happily, handing the tube of lip-gloss to him. He examined it for a moment, amused, before he passed it back to me. Just as his hand brushed mine, our eyes connected, and for a moment, my heart raced. There was something different about both of us, tonight. I almost reached out to push his hair back; I almost wanted to continue to gaze into his eyes forever. Then I shook myself; I was being ridiculous. This was Remus, my friend. Abashed, I glanced away, and as we continued to play, I noticed that his eyes strayed to my face more than usual, and I couldn't help but do the same.

"Tell me something," I said suddenly, moving my knight to a position where I hoped that he wouldn't be squashed.

"Hmm?" he replied distractedly.

"You were a Marauder."

That got his attention. He glanced up at me. "I was a Marauder," he said slowly. "And?"

"Marauders play _pranks._"

He seemed to see where this was going and smiled weakly in protest. "Nymphadora…"

"Seriously. All I want to know is _one thing_ you helped James and Sirius with. Hell, throw in something that you actually _orchestrated, _that'd sure be interesting." I gave him a pleading look, seeing he was about to refuse. "Please, Remus?"

He sighed heavily and fell into a deep contemplation for a few moments. Finally, he said very slowly, "Well, there was one time…"

"Yes?" I said eagerly, leaning forward.

He gave me a strangled look, but continued. "It was before I was made prefect, mind you. We were in fourth year, and James was already hooked on Lily, absolutely _obsessed _with her. Of course, she constantly refused him. One day, I believe he went a little far; he kept sending her enchanted birds that sang of his undying love for her, all day, almost every half an hour." I had to try very, very hard to keep from laughing. He sighed wistfully. "I didn't help James recover from his broken hand…"

"She _broke _his _hand_?" I asked, alarmed.

"With a copy of one of the numerous heavy books that she carried around constantly," he said grimly, his face so mockingly serious that I started laughing. "She was absolutely _determined _to make it worse for him, though. She knew almost all of the passages of the castle as well as we did, and she took me aside, one day, to ask which one that James usually used to get to the common room at night. So I told her; it was behind the tapestry of the lost-looking knight with his helmet on backwards."

I nodded. "I remember using that."

"Then she said, 'Remus, I want you to help me with something…promise you won't tell James?' I said yes, of course; I'd always thought that he was going a little far with his constant, ubiquitous attempts to court her. She collected every single last one of those ridiculous birds that he sent her – there were dozens of them – and placed them inside the passageway behind the tapestry. The charm had worn off, but both of us charmed them so that they would attack the first dark-haired, hazel-eyed boy with glasses that walked through that tapestry." I was in hysterics by now, and Remus was fighting down laughter, too. "That night, we both hid farther along down the corridor, and James, with Sirius, walked inside it; instantly, the birds all swooped down and started screeching, not really doing any damage, of course, but enough to sufficiently aggravate them. I seem to remember that James was quite unable to see the next couple of days; even though I repaired his glasses, he never wore them, afraid that the birds would come back."

Both of us were laughing, hard. Finally, I managed to gasp, "But why'd you help Lily?"

He suddenly grew a lot more serious, and he contemplated the chessboard again. The pieces were indignant at being abandoned. "She kept my secret," he said softly, his voice barely audible.

My heart suddenly pounded; was this secret the illness that Sirius had spoken of? I was about to ask, but then, suddenly, there was a faint _pop_, and Kingsley Shacklebolt's head appeared in the fire.

"Remus, Tonks," he said urgently, "Harry's been attacked by dementors at Privet Drive…"

"What?" Remus demanded, his voice oddly enraged, but still quiet. We both knelt on the hearth, scattering chess pieces.

"Not to worry, he fended them off; quite a strong Patronus you've managed to teach him, by the way, Remus," Shacklebolt said, nodding to my friend. "But the Ministry is all a flutter; they're trying to get him expelled…"

"What?" a hoarse voice said behind us, and a moment later, Sirius was plopping down on the other side of Remus, glaring at Shacklebolt. "How can they? They'd be breaking their own law!"

"I know, I know," Shacklebolt said, impatiently. "But honestly, Sirius, you know what the Ministry is like, you've suffered their wrath…we're doing what we can. There's going to be a hearing, be grateful for that. Now, I must go, they're getting suspicious…I'll be around tomorrow." With another faint _pop_, he vanished.

I couldn't help but feel rather incensed at the unfairness of this situation; not only had Shacklebolt interrupted when I was about to discover the ultimate reason for Remus's sickness, but he had delivered news that completely blew our conversation out of the water; there was no chance that we would ever get back to it now, at least not tonight. I sighed inaudibly as we all rose from the hearth, dusting ourselves off; Remus and I went to work picking up the scattered pieces of our lost game while Sirius grumbled, pacing, swearing under his breath. Well, it looked as if there was a mission looming in the future; glancing sideways at Remus, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, he was going to let me in soon – that soon, he was going to trust me. Maybe a mission rescuing Harry would be what we both needed; hopefully, Dumbledore would assign us both to the job. With that thought to sustain me, I said goodnight to Remus and Sirius and collapsed on the bed in my flat; the dream, without further ado, filtered into my thoughts before I'd even fallen into the darkness of sleep, and it lured me to dreamland, one silvery strand at a time.

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I could not go to sleep to save my life. 

I knew, for a fact, that everyone _else _was sleeping perfectly fine. I could tell by the snores that I recognized as Sirius's, Arthur's, and even Ronald Weasley's. The fact was, though, that I was terribly nervous about the mission for rescuing Harry the next day, and I could not go to sleep to save my life. With a resigned sigh, I swung my legs out of bed and got up, ready to go downstairs and make a cup of tea to calm my nerves. Hopefully I wouldn't crash into anything that would wake everyone up.

I made it to the kitchen without incident, but when I got there, I realized that someone else had beaten me to it. From the doorway, I stood in silence, watching the figure make a cup of tea. I could just make out his undernourished form. _Remus. _For a moment, my heart skipped beats sporadically, but then I slipped into the kitchen, hoping that I wasn't about to accidentally scare him half to death. I pulled my mug silently out of a cupboard and said quietly, "Pour me a cup, too?"

He didn't jump. I was impressed. He just turned and looked at me, curiously, tiredly. He looked exhausted, and poured me a cup of tea without further inquiry. "You couldn't sleep, either?" I remarked sympathetically, leaning back against the counter.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "No. It's not so much the mission, just…" He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "I'm an insomniac."

I couldn't help but smile. "Welcome to the club, Remus." I raised my mug and he clinked it with his.

"How many other members do you have?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Just you and I, I'm afraid," I confessed with a sigh. "So many people are insecure about their night time problems."

He laughed, very softly. I stared down into my tea, the momentary cheering-up gone, the anxiety back and rumbling in my stomach. "What's troubling you?" he asked me, the frown coming back into his brow. "You seem a little unnerved."

I looked up at him. His hair was mussed from his attempt at sleep, the light brown sticking up in places; his eyes were tired, but showed concern for me. He'd put on a terrycloth, dark forest-green bathrobe – patched in places and obviously very careworn, but still comfortable looking – over his flannel pyjamas, the bottoms of which I could see were also re-stitched and patched in places. For a moment, I just gazed straight into his eyes, and then I turned away, shaking my head.

"Nothing."

"I don't think that it's nothing," he said quietly.

I looked back at him, and in those few seconds, there were a million things I wanted to tell him, but none of them had words to really describe them. Instead I said, in an uncustomary small voice, "I'm just worried about tomorrow. I mean, everyone knows I'm a bit crazy at times, and I like to be loud and bright and cheerful, but…I mean, I don't want them to think that I'm not taking this seriously. I do actually want to help. It's just that people don't always understand that when they've gotten used to me being…well, me." I gave a small smile. "They don't always take me seriously. And…I mean, it's _Harry Potter_. I just _know_ I'm going to break something…I'm dead clumsy, I nearly failed Stealth and Tracking in Auror training…"

I was rambling, I knew that. I dared look up at him again, and he looked at me in obvious and sincere sympathy. "I can understand that. People don't always accept you for who you are."

I nodded; for some reason, my eyes were suddenly filling with tears. I would never be sure how it happened, but in the space of a few seconds, Remus had set down his mug of tea, taken my own gently from my hands, and pulled me into his embrace. Tears streaked down my face as I rested my forehead against his chest; he stroked my hair, murmuring soothing words that I couldn't quite make out, but his voice was comforting to me. Finally, he just wrapped his arms around me and held me there, gently, while I cried myself out. When my tears stopped at last, I stood quietly in his embrace, unwilling to move. There was no comfort in the world quite like it, except…

Then it hit me, and the veil that had covered my thoughts suddenly blew open; that dream had been comfort like this, and Remus…was a _werewolf_.

Anyone else, upon realizing this, would have backed out of the situation as soon as possible, I'm sure. I refused to do any such thing. As I snuggled deeper into the comfort of his arms, I couldn't help but smile. Remus, gentle, intelligent Remus, was a werewolf. I had never seen a stronger oxymoron in my life, but I didn't particularly care, either. I breathed in deeply, hoping to fix his scent in my mind forever, the smell of something well worn and earthy; it was that scent that I would forever associate with comfort.

I don't know how long we stood there that night, with the starlight pouring through the windows onto us, but when I finally made it back to bed, sleep came easily, and the anxiety of the next day had been forgotten in the light of all the things I'd discovered and explored. Just as I drifted off to dreamland, I found myself thinking, _I can't wait to stand in his embrace again…_

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**Elizabeth Theresa: Thanks for the review! Yeah, it took me a bit to find that plant, but it was worth it :).**

**slightly so: I found out about aconite in the potions section on the hp-lexicon website. Thanks for your review, and I'm glad my story's nice enough that you're able to stay awake to read it at 2am, lol.**

**finch: Thanks so much for your review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Kerichi: Yes, I had that song in my head as I was writing this, too. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this one as well! (By the way, I've always pictured Remus the werewolf as a wolf with tawny, light-brown fur, flecked with grey in places. I don't know if it's like that in the book, but that's always the way he's been seen in my eyes; it's funny how odd impressions like that happen sometimes, isn't it?)**

**the singer: I was glad to give my imagination excercise, lol. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Mrs.OBlack: I'm glad you liked it, and thanks for your review!**


	7. rescuing

**A/N: **I'm trying to avoid any super-big canon scenes, but this one was important, so…I won't usually put in big huge scenes like this. Just important ones. Anyway, on to the story!

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chapter seven

rescuing

I slept in the next morning, as the mission wasn't to take place until much later that night. My dreams consisted pleasantly of lying in that anonymous man's arms; I had a nagging suspicion as to who he was, but I couldn't be sure, could I? When I finally awoke, it was to the soft knock on my door. Sleepily, I rolled over and called, my voice hoarse from sleep, "Come in."

The door opened, a tray bearing breakfast being magicked along by none other than Remus Lupin. He smiled at me. "Molly asked me…well, ordered me…to bring you breakfast, seeing as you missed it this morning."

"Oh, shoot," I said, frowning. "I slept that long?"

He gave his classic, small shrug and said, "You were up late."

I nodded, and the tray came to a rest on my knees. "Thanks, Remus," I said softly. "You know, for…for everything."

His eyes met mine, and I knew, immediately, that he understood; he sat down beside me on the bed as I draped the covers over my knees and started eating. "It's nothing," he said, quietly. "I know what it's like to not be accepted for who you are."

I looked curiously at him, and he averted his eyes. After all he'd done for me, I felt it wrong to pry, and so returned quietly to my breakfast. "I don't know, Remus," I said at last. "I mean, sometimes I get to the point when I just think, _one person…I just want one person who will completely accept me and love me, no matter what I am or who I become._ You know?"

His voice was barely audible when it spoke again. "Yes," he said, and there was a soft note of brokenness laced into his gentle voice, a note of such complete lament that all I wanted was to reach forward and hug him tight. He was facing away from me, and I couldn't see his face. "Yes, I know."

Quietly, I laid aside the breakfast tray and scooted up next to him, draping my arm across his shoulders. Almost instinctively, it seemed, he turned his face away from mine. "Remus," I said softly, "please tell me what's wrong."

He shook his head; I was close enough that his tawny hair, streaked with grey, brushed my face briefly. "Not now, Nymphadora," he said; I'd never heard his voice so weak, and it scared me. "Not now."

As it would happen, at that moment, my _dear _cousin – I grit my teeth, looking back on it – burst through the door, roaring, "TONKS…" Remus was up in an instant, and I reached for a roll, anything to stuff my mouth with so that I didn't start shouting blooding hell at Sirius. It worked rather well, too, I might add.

When finally I swallowed, I said sweetly, "Yes, dear cousin?"

He'd stopped dead in the doorway, looking from me to Remus and back again with a confounded look on his face. "Ah…Molly wanted me to tell you to try and hurry, that Mad-Eye wants to go through the procedure one last time."

I nodded. "Thanks, Sirius. I'll be down in a minute."

He looked between Remus and I one last time and then backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Remus looked distinctly uncomfortable, now that Sirius had interrupted us both, but I reached up and yanked him back to sit on the bed next to me again. "Roll?" I asked, dangling it temptingly in front of him. He couldn't suppress a smile and took it, biting into the bread gladly. When I glanced back at the breakfast tray, I realized immediately Molly's intention; there was enough food there for _three _people, let alone one. "Oh, so considerate," I said sarcastically, finding the extra set of silverware. "You didn't eat, did you?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't feeling very hungry."

I sighed and scooted farther over on the bed, placing the tray between us and handing him the extra set of silverware. "If you don't eat, I'll be forced to hex you."

He smiled wanly, but it was a smile. "Alright, alright. I should have known better than to try and fool Molly Weasley…" Without further ado, he tucked into the scrambled eggs with ham and cheese and I grinned. The twenty minutes or so that followed passed pleasantly, once I'd managed to take his mind off of the worry he undoubtedly felt about both Harry and Sirius.

"What's Harry like?" I asked curiously, eyeing a sausage link.

Remus's face was crossed by both a shadow and a smile. "He's very much like his father, but very different, too. When I last taught him, in third year, there was such a raw desperation in him to succeed, to fight, to do anything to live up to his parents, that I could truly see how he was Lily's son. She was always so determined to do whatever was necessary. And he had James's knack for getting into trouble…and his bravery. He forced himself through the lessons to learn how to fend off dementors, even though I know how glad he was to hear his parents for that space of a few seconds, even though it was the night they died. He's very special, very strong, very determined. But…when we go to get him tonight, you must understand, he'll most likely be rather angry. He can't stand the Dursleys."

I snorted. "I wouldn't be able to, either. From what I've heard, they're all right gits, the lot of them."

He smiled. "I'd be hard-pressed to contradict you." He stood. "You should get dressed, Mad-Eye will be incensed that we've taken so long."

I sighed and closed my eyes briefly. "Oh, all right." I got out of bed, smoothing down the white tank top I was wearing and glancing down at my overlarge, red flannel pyjama bottoms. "I wonder how much he would bark at me if I came downstairs like this."

Remus had to laugh. "I'll take the tray down." He picked up the now-empty tray and walked out the door.

I smiled at myself in the mirror and started getting dressed. The mirror wheezed, "Deary, if you'd just make your hair a bit more sensible, you'd be good to go."

"Oh, shut up," I said good-naturedly.

It wasn't long into the mission before I accidentally broke something, but everyone was good-humored about it, so it wasn't a problem. "It was a good thing, anyway," Remus said as he helped me up. "He'll be down any moment now. Let's congregate by the stairs."

Not long after we'd all gathered there, a shadow moved at the top of the stairs, a shadow that was holding steadily to a wand. I felt Remus let off a soft sigh of relief at the sight of the boy. I could barely see him through the light coming in through the door, but something in Remus's face relaxed. Mad-Eye spoke suddenly, startling us all. "Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out."

He didn't lower his wand, as far as I could tell. His voice, though, probed cautiously as he said, "Professor Moody?"

"I don't know so much about 'Professor,'" Mad-Eye said grumpily, and I saw Remus's lips twitch wryly. "Never got around to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry didn't move. I could understand his indecision; from what Remus had told me, he'd spent nine months in the company of an imposter playing Mad-Eye who'd tried to kill him just before he was revealed for who he _really _was. I glanced sideways at Remus again. _He _could convince Harry to come down. I slipped my hand into his and squeezed gently; he looked sideways at me, and nodded, then looked up to the top of the stairs. "It's all right, Harry," he said softly, his hoarse voice echoing up to the boy. "We've come to take you away."

"P-Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, his voice both relieved and disbelieving. "Is that you?"

Finally, I sighed. "Why are we all standing in the dark?" I asked aloud, squeezing Remus's hand one last time before withdrawing it to grip my wand. "_Lumos_."

Immediately, Harry Potter was illuminated. For a moment, we all just looked up at him, and I finally nodded in satisfaction; this was exactly what I'd expected The Boy Who Lived to look like. "Oooh, he looks just like I though he would," I said, smiling up at the boy and holding my wand aloft. Remus was smiling broadly, too. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," Shacklebolt's slow, deep voice said from behind me. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," Elphias Doge said from the back. "Lily's eyes."

Mad-Eye was scrutinizing Harry suspiciously. "Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?" he growled. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless someone brought any Veritaserum?"

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Remus asked calmly, even though he cast an annoyed sideways glance at Mad-Eye.

"A stag," Harry said nervously, and a bit confusedly.

"That's him, Mad-Eye," Remus said, nodding.

Finally, Harry came down the stairs, and Mad-Eye immediately reprimanded him for sticking his wand in his back pocket. "Who d'you know who's lost a buttock?" I asked Mad-Eye in interest, rolling my eyes at Remus.

"Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" growled Mad-Eye "Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore…and I saw that," he added angrily when I rolled my eyes at the ceiling.

Remus held out his hand and shook Harry's, looking closely at him. "How are you?"

"F-fine…" Harry mumbled, though he looked quite glad to see a familiar face in Remus. "I'm – you're really lucky the Dursleys are out…"

"Lucky, ha!" I laughed. "It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling them they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now…Or they think they are." I grinned.

"We are leaving, aren't we?" he asked, hopefully. "Soon?"

"Almost at once," Remus said, nodding. "We're just waiting for the all-clear."

"Where are we going? The Burrow?"

"Not the Burrow, no," Remus said, and we all began to move into the kitchen. "Too risky. We've set up headquarters somewhere undetectable. It's taken a while…This is Alastor Moody, Harry," he added, pointing in Moody's direction.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"And this is Nymphadora…"

"_Don't _call me Nymphadora, Remus," I said, and shuddered. "It's Tonks."

"…Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," Remus finished, barely suppressing a smile. I tried _so hard _to scowl at him, because I knew that he would never give up; to him, I would _always _be Nymphadora.

"So would you if your fool of a mother had called you 'Nymphadora,'" I muttered, trying not to smile.

He continued with the introduction, and then said, at Harry's bemused look at the number of people there, "A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you."

"Yeah, well, the more the better," said Moody darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," Remus added. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

"Very _clean_, aren't they, these Muggles?" I asked curiously. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, like with wizards?"

"Er – yeah," Harry said, then turned to Remus. "Look – what's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol –?"

"_Shut up_!" Moody growled, as various witches and wizards gave their various responses to Harry's question.

"What?"

"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," said Moody, glowering at Harry as if he should have _known _better. "_Damn it, _it keeps sticking – ever since that scum wore it –" he said of his magical eye, then popped it out of his head.

"Mad-Eye, you do know that's disgusting, don't you?" I said, wrinkling my nose slightly.

He ignored me. "Get me a glass of water, would you, Harry?" Harry fetched the glass, and Mad-Eye grinned humorlessly, saying, "Cheers. I want three-hundred-and-sixty degrees visibility on the return journey."

"How're we getting – wherever we're going?" Harry asked.

"Brooms," Remus said. "Only way. You're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey."

"Remus says you're a good flier," Shacklebolt said.

"He's excellent," Remus said, smiling at Harry before glancing at his watch. "Anyway, you'd better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," I said brightly, and followed Harry out. "Funny place," I remarked. "It's a bit _too _clean, d'you know what I mean? Bit unnatural. Oh, this is better," I added as we stepped into Harry's room, feeling much more at home. As he went to packing, I surveyed myself in the mirror critically. "You know, I don't think purple's really my color," I said, tugging at a lock of my spiky hair. "D'you think it makes me look a bit peaky?"

"Er –" Harry said, looking quite unsure as to what to do with me. I couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, it does," I said, and turned my hair bubble-gum pink.

He gaped at me. "How did you do that?"

"I'm a Metamorphmagus," I said. "It means I can change my appearance at will," I added, seeing his confused look. "I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training without any study at all, it was great."

"You're an Auror?" He looked rather impressed. I beamed.

"Yeah. Kingsley is as well; he's a bit higher up than I am, though. I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking, I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me break that plate when we arrived downstairs?"

"Can you lean how to be a Metamorphmagus?" Harry asked.

"Bet you wouldn't mind hiding that scar sometimes, eh?" I asked, chuckling.

"No, I wouldn't mind," he mumbled, and turned away.

"Well, you'll have to learn the hard way, I'm afraid," I said. "Metamorphmagi are really rare, and they're born, not made. Most wizards need to use a wand or potions to change their appearance…But we've got to get going, Harry, we're supposed to be packing," I added guiltily.

"Oh – yeah," he said, remembering, and snatched up a few more books.

"Don't be stupid, it'll be much quicker if I – _pack_!" I said, waving my wand in the hope that this was, for once, going to work.

Well, it did, in a way. Books, clothes, telescope, and scales and landed in the trunk, after all, just not very…erm…neatly.

"It's not very neat," I added aloud, glancing down at the mess. "My mum's got this knack of getting stuff to fit itself in neatly – she even gets the socks to fold themselves – but I've never mastered how she does it – it's a kind of flick –"

I gave my wand a hopeless flick, and one of his socks wriggled feebly before flopping back into the trunk, having seemingly exhausted itself with its brief gymnastics display.

"Ah, well," I sighed regretfully, forcefully closing the lid, "at least it's all in. That could do with a bit of cleaning, too – _Scourgify_ –" I pointed my wand commandingly at his owl's cage, but only a few feathers and droppings melted into thin air. "Well, that's a _bit _better –" I said reproachfully, "I've never quite got the hang of these sort of householdy spells. Right – got everything? Cauldron? Broom?" I couldn't squelch a gasp when my eyes found his broom. "Wow! A _Firebolt_? And I'm still riding a Comet Two Sixty," I grumped enviously, eyeing the broom. Harry looked very proud. "Ah well…wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on?" He grinned bashfully at this. "Okay, let's go. _Locomotor Trunk._" I snatched up his owl's cage and Harry followed me out the door, carrying his _Firebolt_.

Remus was sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys when we walked into the kitchen. "Excellent," he said, looking up at us. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry –"

"They won't," Harry interjected, looking amused at the thought that they might be worried.

"That you're safe –"

"That'll just depress them," he dismissed.

" – and you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?" Harry looked annoyed at this thought.

Remus smiled, not answering.

"Come here, boy," Mad-Eye said, beckoning Harry forward with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."

"You need to what?" Harry said nervously; I'd be nervous if I were him, too, I reflected, and not just because he'd been in the presence of Moody's imposter for nine months.

"Disillusionment Charm," Mad-Eye said. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go –"

Harry blended immediately into the wall behind him. "Nice on, Mad-Eye," I said appreciatively, staring at the spot where I assumed that Harry was.

"Come on," Mad-Eye said, unlocking the back door. "Clear night," he remarked once we'd all vacated the house. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barked at Harry; I could sense the boy cringing, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin'll be covering you from below. I'm going to be behind you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed –"

"Is that likely?" Harry's voice asked, sounding distinctly worried. Mad-Eye ignored his question.

" – the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying eat and they'll join you."

"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye," I said sarcastically, "he'll think we're not taking this seriously."

"I'm just telling the boy the plan," he barked at me, exasperated by my lack of CONSTANT DILIGENCE. "Our job's to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt –"

"No one's going to die," Shacklebolt said soothingly, something of a sigh in his voice.

"Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!" Remus said sharply, breaking into the conversation. I followed his pointing hand to look at the sky, where a shower of bright red sparks flared. Everyone mounted their brooms. "Second signal, let's go!" he added, as green sparks exploded above, and we all kicked off from the ground.

Through the nightmare of a ride that followed, somehow we all survived Mad-Eye's constant paranoia and made it to 12 Grimmauld Place, where Harry touched down beside me as I began to unbuckle his trunk from the back of my broom. Finally, we were inside, warm, and dry; arguments followed, but I could barely keep up after that freezing broom journey. When I finally warmed up enough, it was for the largest argument of all between Molly and Sirius, and I sensed Harry's relief when finally, _finally _he got the answers – well, most of them – that he wanted out of us. It wasn't long after and the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry went to bed; various Order members who'd remained had dispersed, too, and Molly and Arthur said goodnight as well. Which left Sirius, Remus, and I in the kitchen, looking at each other.

"That did not go well," Remus commented, leaning back in his chair slightly.

Sirius glowered at him for a moment, but then stood up and said, "I've had enough, I'm off to bed," and vanished through the swinging kitchen door.

Remus sighed tiredly. "Tea, Nymphadora?"

"Thanks, Remus," I said gratefully as he got up to make the tea. "And I congratulate you on smoothing over the worst with Sirius and Molly. It was about to get a great deal uglier."

His shoulders lifted in a shrug, his back to me. "I've been dealing with Sirius's impulsiveness since we walked through Hogwarts's gates the first time. It gets easier over the years, I can assure you." He came back to the table with the tea and slid into the seat across from me. It struck me how empty the room was at that moment, the dying fire cackling with only the smallest of noises, abandoned butterbeer corks lying aimlessly on the floor and casting long shadows. Remus stirred his tea for a long moment, and then let out a very heavy, weary sigh. "It's not much to ask for, dealing with his…quirks…when he's dealt so long with mine." He looked down and away, his shoulders drooping slightly.

"What quirks?" I said, smiling. "Aside from your refusal to call me _Tonks_, there's nothing particularly annoying about you…"

He laughed, but it was tired. "It's much more than that." He finally looked up at me, his blue-grey eyes piercing mine. "He was my friend, when I believed that no one could be."

I reached across the table and slipped my hand into his, squeezing it tight. "Why would you believe that?" I asked softly. "You're a good man, Remus."

He sighed again. "Look at me," he said, very quietly. "I have more scars on my face than most people do on their entire bodies, I can't hold a steady job – thus the state of my clothing – and I rarely have enough money even for _food_. It's not for lack of reason, either, Nymphadora." His eyes glinted very suddenly in the firelight, revealing the sudden sadness and ache of a lamenting heart.

"The reason being?" I asked, looking straight into his eyes. _Tell me, _I begged.

He was silent for a long moment, and I said quietly, "Trust me, Remus. Let me in. I want to help you, I want to know what's wrong." I searched his eyes, seeing a raw desperation there, a longing to trust me. "We're friends," I said in a low, strained voice. "Aren't we?"

He nodded, and took a breath. "Nymphadora…" He hesitated only a second longer. "I'm a werewolf."

The relief was so powerful that I nearly smiled, but forced myself not to. Instead, I turned over his hand and traced the scars on his palm. "I know," I said softly.

"You…you _know_?" he said, sounding slightly dumbfounded.

I looked up at him with a twinkle in my eye. "Remus, I'm an Auror. You were out of commission at the full moon…not to mention I went prying and tried to come up to the attic, Sirius threw me out…and, well, I guessed." I smiled at his somewhat bewildered expression. "Does it truly matter, Remus?"

He smiled, somewhat. "Not many people have taken to it so…easily."

I shrugged lightly, still tracing the scars on his palm. "Well, I'm different." I gave him a mock-severe look. "You should know this by now, Remus."

He laughed softly. "I suppose." Then he just looked at me, a deep, piercing look, and finally sighed.

"Ah, the world-weary Lupin sigh," I said sagely. "What's wrong?"

"You didn't…see me, at all, when Sirius threw you out?" he asked quietly.

I paused, biting my lip. "No," I said slowly, resuming the tracing of his hand. "Why?"

"I'm not myself," he said, very quietly, "during the full moon."

I looked up at him. "Well, it'd be hard, wouldn't it?" I asked calmly, gazing straight into his eyes. "I mean, Remus, it isn't your fault what you become."

"A monster," he said, the quiet hatred in his voice scaring me because I knew that he felt the hatred for himself. "That's what I become."

"You're not a monster," I said, firmly. "You are a sweet, kind, intelligent, quiet man who isn't himself at full moon. That's all. The wolf is not you, Remus. He is a totally separate being. You are not him."

He lifted his eyes from the table to look at me. "James used to call it my 'furry little problem'," he said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

I laughed. "Sounds like you had some sort of rogue pet or something."

He nodded, then looked down at our intertwined hands. "It's easier, with the Wolfsbane potion," he said, and I wondered if he was rubbing his thumb over my hand subconsciously; it was making my heart pound, and I prayed that he couldn't feel my erratic pulse. "But there are still times when I wasn't able to use it; after all, it's a fairly new invention. The transformations without it are…unbearable." His eyes darkened with clouds.

"Would it be easier with someone there?" I asked him, my voice soft.

His head jerked up; suddenly he was very much awake. "No," he said, his tone forcefully controlled. "Nymphadora, you cannot imagine the _danger_…"

"The Wolfsbane potion makes you perfectly safe," I said, more firmly. "And besides, Sirius was with you…"

"Sirius," he said, his voice dangerous, "is an Animagus who can turn into a dog at will. I can't harm an animal, only a human. He's big enough, he can keep a werewolf under control."

"Please, Remus," I said, my voice small.

He shook his head. "I don't want to run the risk of you getting hurt."

"I won't get hurt!" I snapped, standing abruptly. "I want to prove to you that you are perfectly safe!"

He stood as well. "Despite the Wolfsbane potion, I am not myself, still, when I transform. There are things that still make me dangerous. _I am dangerous, Nymphadora._" His voice felt like thunder. I was hurt, and scared. Remus was not like this.

"I'm sorry," I said finally, when I could bear the silence no longer. "You're a good man, Remus. Can't you see that?"

When he didn't answer, I shook my head, my eyes full of tears, and made to brush past him, but his hand caught my arm. "Wait…Nymphadora…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped."

_That _was my Remus – the gentle, caring voice that I had grown so used to. I couldn't stop myself; I stepped into his arms and rested my forehead against his chest. "It seems so wrong that you have to live with this," I said, listening to his heartbeat. "You're so different from a werewolf. You're gentle, and intelligent, and kind, and you put up with _me_." I could feel his smile. "The wolf is not you, Remus, as much as you think he might be."

"I could never live with hurting you," he said softly, right next to my ear. I had to fight down a pleasurable shiver. "Despite the fact that the wolf is not me, I would still be responsible for any harm that may come to you in my presence, and I don't want to risk that."

I nodded slowly against his chest and looked up at him, wiping away unshed tears. "It's your choice, of course." I smiled wanly. "Someday, though, maybe. When you trust me, when you can trust yourself, can we just leave the option open?"

He managed a small smile. "Alright. Maybe, someday." He leaned down and kissed my forehead, and I closed my eyes. "You'd better get home," he added, his voice low. "It's late, and much longer and you won't be able to Apparate."

"Right you are, as always." I sighed regretfully and reached for my cloak. "Until tomorrow, Remus." I hugged him goodbye and left, the kitchen door swinging shut on his image behind me, gazing down at the table, already lost in thought.

* * *

**Kerichi: Hah, this was _definitely _a better use of my time. Yeah, you're right about the 'it' and 'dream' business, and the "rather incensed" part...that was my own personality showing through. Oops. That's the hardest thing about first person, drat! Lol. Anyway, thanks for your review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**the singer: I agree, lol. Thanks for your review!**

**Katie: Here's the update, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story!**

**slightly so: Sorry this update was a little longer coming, but I did my best! Thanks for your review.**

**Elizabeth Theresa: Thanks for your review. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**padfootbabeinblack: Thanks for your review.**


	8. the presents

**Author's Note: **

**-**Okay, my loyal readers and reviewers, just for you before I go away for the weekend, I present chapter eight for your enjoyment, which I have been working on all day. So enjoy!

-_Italics _in this chapter are flashbacks and past events, because I _hate _doing the whole -FLASHBACK- spiel.

* * *

chapter eight

the presents

The last of summer trickled away into autumn, and autumn steadily began to blend into the brief, cold breaths of winter, scattering away the dead, once-vibrant golden and scarlet leaves. Christmas was approaching, quickly – much too quickly for my liking. The only thing I wanted this year was to buy something for Remus, a really super present that would blow him away and make him smile at me one more time, one more second that I could treasure for eternity. I really had no idea what to get him, though; I spent most of my spare time looking, growing increasingly desperate, until, finally, I stumbled into an antique shop for Muggles about a week before Christmas.

"Good afternoon!" the shopkeeper greeted cheerfully as I brought the cold winter draft in with me, making the bell above the door chime pleasantly. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm looking for a present," I explained, for the millionth time. The man I was addressing sat behind the counter, scribbling away with one of those dratted _pens _that Muggles love so much. A shock of white hair adorned his head, and his face was thick with wrinkles. "For a friend. Would you mind terribly if I just looked around?"

"Not at all," said the old man happily, the furious scratching of his pen totally unheard by human ears.

I browsed through the shelves and tables of the little shop, nothing escaping my eyes. There was some sort of feeling in the air of this shop; I could practically _taste _that the perfect gift was here, somewhere, if only I looked hard enough. Finally, as I was running my fingers across the spines of books on a shelf, my hand caught a larger-than-usual dip in the almost-regular flow of spines. Curiously, I reached in and pulled out the book that had been shoved farther back than the others. It was a handsome book, thick and leather-bound with a dusty red front cover and dark red end pages, and had the old-book smell that Remus had confessed to liking one night with the warmth of the fire washing over us and the glow of chocolate in our stomachs. I smiled when I remembered that night. I had been trying to get him to play Exploding Snap, with predictable results.

_"Honestly, Nymphadora, how can you **bear **that game?" Remus asked, pushing away the playing cards that I was dangling temptingly in front of his face, blocking the words on the pages of his book._

_"It's fun," I said indignantly, and then imitated him: "Honestly, Remus, I know you were a prefect at Hogwarts, but must you be such a wet blanket all the time?"_

_He looked up at me with a mockingly wounded expression. "I'm hurt. I am most certainly **not **a wet blanket."_

_"Oh, yes," I said scathingly. I settled back in my armchair – now **permanently **in front of the fire – and steepled my fingers, gravely peering over them at him. "That's why you're always sitting round with your nose in some book or another. And **smelling **the book, too, by the way – don't pretend you don't, because I've seen you take a good whiff of some of them."_

_"Some of them happen to have a nice scent to them," he said indignantly, waving the book in front of my face. "It reminds me of better days that are now, sadly, long past…when I wasn't pestered to play a children's game each night."_

_"It reminds me of **mothballs**," I said wisely. "C'mon, Remus, just one game and I promise I'll let your old bones go to bed?"_

_Finally, he smiled. "One game," he conceded tiredly, and the predictable action followed; before long, we were set up, the tea was steaming in our mugs beside us, and the fire crackled warmly as we began to play._

_I put forth a timid question. "Remus?"_

_"Mm-hmm?"_

_"Why do you think you're still dangerous at full moon when you've taken the potion?"_

_It was getting easier and easier to talk about this with him as time wore on. He barely flinched anymore when I brought it up. "You can form immunities to potions, Nymphadora," he said, his voice taking on that professorish edge that always annoyed me. "It's the body's natural response. I have a feeling that I've formed somewhat of an immunity to Wolfsbane, and I have to fight increasingly hard against the wolf for control."_

_"You've always won, though, haven't you?" I demanded._

_"Well, yes…"_

_"Then **why**…"_

_"Nymphadora, please." Abruptly, his hand covered mine, and I looked down, surprised. Before he could pull away, I laced my fingers through his and looked up into his eyes, defiantly. "Not tonight, alright? Enough of this discussion for a while."_

_"What was it that Peeves called you again?" I said wonderingly; this was the question I always asked him when I felt that he was being ridiculous._

_"I knew I shouldn't have told you that," he grumped, just as a loud **snap **came from the table. We paid it no heed._

_"What did he call you?" I asked again, in a mock-severe tone._

_"Loony, loopy Lupin," he grumbled, but the ghost of a smile twitched his lips._

_"Hah! So you're being just as loony about this! I **knew **Peeves had to be right about something!"_

_Even Remus laughed at that one, then squeezed my hand, just enough so that I felt him there. "Enough for tonight, Nymphadora."_

_"As you wish it, oh Loony one," I said wisely, the fake, sage tone in my voice enough to make Remus start laughing, a laugh that I could listen to forever and never become tired at all. I could listen to him forever, and that would be enough to sustain me until the end of time._

I smiled, remembering. Then I opened to the inside front cover of the book and my breath caught in my throat.

Hearing my footsteps pause, the old Muggle shopkeeper called to me, "Find something of interest?"

My voice trembling, I managed to reply, "Yes."

He tottered over to me, feeling his way with a cane. I realized, belatedly, that the man was blind. He looked straight through me, the white in his eyes blending with the green so that he had an oddly mystical look – for a Muggle, anyway. "What book?" he asked me, coming to a halt.

"This one," I said, handing it to him. His fingers passed over the cover, and he said, wisely. "Ah…this one. Is this friend close to you?"

"Very," I whispered, watching him flick through the book with blind eyes. "How did you guess?"

"The dedication always gives it away," he said, smiling at me, and as he closed the book, he recited the poem inside the front cover from memory. It had been handwritten, seemingly made for him.

"_Perhaps you are not a beauty that most people can see_

_but as long as you live you will always be beautiful to me._

_And maybe you aren't perfect, but perfection matters not_

_For your faults are the ones that perfection's always sought._

_You are something deeper, something purer, something more_

_something lying with a purpose, behind early love's closed door._

_And maybe you think no one loves you, but I tell you, it's not true,_

_for no one, my dear friend, could love you like I do."_

My heart soared when I heard the words. It fit him, it fit _us_, so perfectly. The book would be dear to him, I knew, and Christmas Eve was full moon; maybe he'd let me stay with him, this time. I didn't want him to spend it alone. "Under regular circumstances, this book would cost very much indeed," the shopkeeper said, his voice grave. My heart sank.

"Please, sir, I'll do _anything _for that book," I told him, my eyes shining with tears. "I've been looking for ages, and this book is _perfect _for him…please, I'll do anything…"

"It's yours," he said firmly, pressing it into my hands.

"Really?" I managed to stammer.

"Yours. You must really love him."

The impact of his words hit me, hard. Was that what I felt for Remus? There was barely any indecision, and then I nodded; realizing that he couldn't see me, I replied, "Yes. Very much."

He nodded wisely. "He'll appreciate you for that. I still remember the bloke who sold me the book. It was around this time, too…Christmas Eve, in fact. I could still see, then. His clothes were ragged; it looked as though he hadn't shaved in days." The memory seemed to play across my mind's eye as the shopkeeper spoke.

_Snow swirled outside, and the shopkeeper, younger and whole, looked up, shaking his head. "Aye," he said to the golden retriever at his feet, "we're in for a white Christmas this year, my friend."_

_The dog barked half-heartedly and then lay down again next to the fire, warming itself. Just then, the shop door blew open, and a man, a bundle of threadbare coat and clothes, stumbled inside, clutching a book beneath his light jacket. The desperation in his eyes forced the shopkeeper to his feet. "Happy Christmas, my good man!" he said jovially. "What brings you here this absurd hour?"_

_The man barely managed a smile in return. He looked ill, and tired, and very, very poor, by the state of his clothes. His hair was unkempt and flecked with gray; he hadn't shaved in days, by the looks of it. There were lines in his young face, tired, weary lines of a person who has lived far too much in their space of years. "Happy Christmas," he said, but his soft, hoarse voice was dull. "How much will you buy this book for?"_

_He extended it to the shopkeeper, who eyed it closely as he turned it over and over in his hands. "My grandmother gave it to me when I was a very small boy," he said in his hoarse voice. "It was the first book I was ever given. But my grandmother is dying; I want to buy her one last Christmas present, to make up for the years I've missed, and I have no money."_

"_I can give you a great deal for this book," the shopkeeper said delightedly. "But are you sure you want to part with it? It seems to hold a lot of sentimental value to you." He looked closely at the man, who looked, in the most pronounced sense, defeated._

"_It doesn't matter," he said, though his voice was choked. "She's all I have left."_

_The shopkeeper gave him the money and the man walked out after surrendering his most prized possession, back into the bleak midwinter, back out into life where it looked as though he was going to fight one last time._

"He stumbled out of the shop and back out into the snow and cold," the shopkeeper continued. "I told him to stay, that the weather was a bad thing to be out in – he looked like he was ill, poor fellow – but he wouldn't hear it, saying he needed to get back home. I felt sorry for the man. I probably paid more than I should have for the book, but he looked so desperate, and it was Christmas."

I swallowed, hard, trying to force down the lump in my throat. "Do you…do you know who he was?" I asked, clutching the book to my chest.

He nodded. "His name was Remus John Lupin."

I felt my knees go weak. "Who wrote the dedication?"

"I believe it was his grandmother," the shopkeeper said thoughtfully, running his fingers through his hair. His wooden staff, I noticed, had a griffin at its head. "He came back a few days later, even quieter than before, to tell me that she had passed on but that thanks to me, she'd gotten one last Christmas gift. When he left, there was this staff." He raised the walking stick and tapped it absently. "I don't know how it got here. He was magic, he was. He seemed like it, anyway. Will that be all for you today, Miss?"

"Oh…yes," I stammered. "Yes, and thank you…thank you so much." I backed out the door, wiping away my tears, and clutching Remus's perfect Christmas present.

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**Elizabeth Theresa: **I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! Thanks for your review.

**Kerichi: **I'm having that same war with myself right now, but there will be a long break until next Monday for the next update. Hee, I'm glad you noticed that passage in POA. This is just my take on what might be happening -- how he _might _be dangerous when he transforms still -- but I'm banking on it to work for this story, at least.

**sea-ess-eye: **Thanks for your review, and I hope you enjoyed the update!

**Ange de l'eau: **Thanks for your review, as always, and I hope you liked this chapter.

**padfootbabeinblack: **I don't care how long your reviews are, I'm just glad to get review, lol!


	9. moonlight

**A/N: Yeah, I know it took me forever. I hope it was worth the wait!**

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chapter nine

moonlight

I stared into the mirror, quite aware that I was shaking, and tried desperately to focus some of my nervous energy, casting a quick glance out the window at the as of yet empty sky. The moon wouldn't rise for another few hours, which would give me time to talk to Remus before he transformed, but I was still very nervous about his gift. I hoped that he would like it. Meanwhile, I was attempting to settle on a good appearance for the night. Bubblegum pink didn't seem right for my hair. _Nothing _seemed right at the moment, for that matter. Closing my eyes, I waited for something natural to occur, and when I opened my eyes, there was a pleasant surprise waiting for me in the mirror. My skin had turned a few shades paler than usual, though I'd kept my natural heart-shaped face; the freckles spattering over the bridge of my nose and onto my cheeks looked softer, less pronounced than usual. My eyes had the same dark, twinkling, allusive quality that I loved and everyone else could never wrap their minds around, and my hair had straightened and lengthened to just past my shoulders in thick, glossy strands, curled up slightly at the ends. I smiled at myself in the mirror, naturally soft red lips beaming back at me. It was nice, and simple. I felt like being quiet tonight, anyway. Bubblegum pink wasn't really necessary.

I pulled a red turtleneck over my head and brushed at my dark blue jeans, then threw a cloak around my shoulders and picked up Remus's present, which I'd wrapped in plain, silver, snowflake-patterned paper. A squirrel chattered angrily at the window suddenly, and I jumped, then smiled nervously. "Is that my cue?" I asked it inquiringly, and if bounded away in a huff, fluffy trail streaking after it. Then I Disapparated to 12 Grimmauld Place, hoping that my absent-mindedness wouldn't affect my Apparating abilities.

When I pushed open the door to the kitchen, Remus was standing with his back to me, making a cup of tea by the looks of it. I paused for a moment in the doorway to watch him, his gentle, tired movements making me ache. The weight of the world seemed to weigh on his shoulders, and it was _Christmas Eve _– he needed happiness, not weariness. There was something about him that stopped me in my tracks, every time my eyes found him. It wasn't even that he was endearingly handsome. True, I loved the way his soft brown hair shifted on his head; how many times had I dreamt, recently, of running my fingers through it? I could gaze into his blue-grey eyes for eternity and never tire, could rest in his embrace for infinity and never want to leave, but there was something else about him that drew me, something that simply tugged me toward him in a way that I couldn't explain.

He sighed softly, his back still to me. My heart ached. I dearly hoped that I could cheer him up. Softly, I knocked on the doorframe. "Happy Christmas, Remus," I called softly.

He turned in surprise; I expected him to be angry with me for being there when he was set to transform, but on the contrary, a tired smile spread onto his face. "You as well, Nymphadora. You do know that it's full moon?" He took a sip of his tea, dropping his eyes to survey the wisps of steam that rose from the face of the drink, and sighed heavily. My heart cried out for him.

"Yes," I said simply, and walked into the kitchen to stand beside him, making myself a cup of tea as well. "I know. But it's Christmas Eve, Remus," I added, my voice pleading. "I don't want you to spend it alone. You deserve better."

He smiled wanly at me. "That's kind of you, Nymphadora, but I told you why you shouldn't be here."

"I'll keep my wand with me at all times," I told him sincerely. "I'll make sure that I don't get hurt."

He shook his head. "No, Nymphadora." He stirred his tea, not looking at me, even though I gazed insistently at him. My heart racing, I leaned against him, dropping my head onto his shoulder, hoping that he wouldn't refuse to at least return the gesture. He set his mug of tea down and wrapped an arm around my waist, his head resting on my own. I closed my eyes and counted, very slowly, to ten before I spoke again.

"Can I at least give you your present?" I asked, my eyes fluttering open as I looked up at him.

He smiled and removed his arm. "You didn't need to get me anything."

"Codswollop," I said firmly, pulling out the package. "It's Christmas, Remus. Everyone needs to get a present, even a stuffed shirt like you." He smiled at that and took the package I handed him. My palms were sweating by now. I looked past him as he opened it, out the small window by the door. Snow from a few nights ago had piled up on the ledge. I hoped that it would snow again tonight.

When I heard the sounds of unwrapping go eerily still, I turned back to look at him. He was staring at the book, and almost subconsciously, his finger traced down the spine. "How did you…?" he asked weakly, his voice hoarse, and then flipped open to the inside front cover. At the top of the dedication, I'd written, _Your grandmother isn't the only one who felt this way. Love, Nymphadora Tonks._

"You…Nymphadora…I can never…this is too much…thank you…" He was stammering, something that I'd never heard Remus Lupin do. It was nice, for a change. I smiled, glad that he liked it, and pressed my finger to his lips to hush him. His eyes met mine, and immediately I felt my heart jump into my throat.

"Happy Christmas, Remus," I said simply.

His hand reached up and took mine. My heart was pounding; I couldn't breathe. His thumb, very gently, stroked the back of my hand, and I got chills all the way up and down my spine. Then, very softly, his lips touched mine.

Blood rushed in my ears as slowly I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his hands found my waist, pulling me against him. His mouth was marvellously warm and sweet on mine, his moustache tickling my skin, his eyelashes fluttering against my cheeks, and when it was finally over, I couldn't breathe. We looked at one another with slightly widened eyes. I took the moment to commit his eyes completely to memory – that warm hue of blue-grey, soft with golden and jade flecks spattered like stars. He tilted my chin up and kissed me one more time, deeply, thoroughly. I melted into him, sliding my fingers into his hair.

The kiss finally ended. I opened my eyes slowly to gaze into my his, drinking in everything about him – Remus, perfect, scarred, wonderful Remus, _my _Remus, the quiet werewolf who'd so easefully found a place in my heart. "I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, and I nestled up to him, delighting in the sound of the words. "I love you, Nymphadora."

I looked up into his warm blue-grey eyes, flickering slightly with that fear, the fear of rejection that I'd just now found. "I love you too, Remus, more than anything," I said, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. A grin split across my face, even as I felt my eyes well with tears. He reached up and brushed the tears from my cheeks. "Let me stay," I whispered, begging. "Please let me stay, Remus."

He hesitated only a fraction of a second and then granted, quietly, "All right. You can stay."

My face was going to split if I didn't stop smiling.

"We should go up," he said softly, and picked up the book. He then wrapped an arm around my shoulders and we began the walk to the stairway, the silence around us comforting, speaking all the loving words that we would say to one another as time passed. I knew we would say those things. I _knew_.

We stepped into the attic and smiled, albeit a little nervously, at one another. I nodded toward the closet. "I'm going to change into something more comfortable. I'll be right back." He nodded and turned back to look out the window. The moon would rise soon. I slipped into the closet and took off my robe, then pulled on red and black plaid flannel pyjama bottoms and a grey sweatshirt. When I stepped out of the closet again, Remus was gazing out toward the banks of clouds that had broken up. I stepped up behind him and wrapped my arms around him. He turned to enfold me in his embrace. I felt so safe in his arms. Our bodies fit together perfectly, as though we'd been made for one another.

"It's almost time," he said quietly, breaking the silence. "Go sit on the bed, and the only thing I ask is that you not watch while I'm changing. It isn't pleasant, to say the least."

I nodded, happy to grant him anything if he'd let me stay. I nestled up on the bed and smiled at him one last time. He managed a smile in return, and handed me the book. As it passed hands, I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down to kiss me. His lips pressed to mine for a long moment, and then he broke away. I turned my back and curled up on my side. Suddenly I heard a whimper and forced myself not to turn around, squeezing my eyes shut, even though the snarls and rages of pain behind me were almost too difficult to bear. Finally, it was over. Tentatively, hesitantly, I rolled over.

A quiet, lean wolf lay on the floor, trembling slightly. The tawny brown of its fur was flecked in places with silver strands. I gazed at him with wide, amazed eyes. This was the wolf from my dream.

Tentatively, I swung my legs off the bed and sank down onto the floor, watching him watching me, the calm regard in those blue-grey eyes quite amazing. He was sane tonight, I could tell. Hesitantly, I reached my hand out toward him. He came to me, bumping his snout against my hand and then letting me scratch his head. "You're beautiful, Remus," I whispered in a hushed voice.

He gave a soft growl-cough, which I took as laughter. I climbed back up onto the bed and he surged up after me. Not only was he beautiful, he was powerful. He nudged the book with his snout. "You want me to read out of it?" I asked, and he bobbed his head, curling up next to me. "Alright…" I said, and opened to the first page, then began to read.

They were short stories, beautifully written and crafted with pictures here and there. There were many stories about werewolves, too. After a while, I noticed that Remus's eyes had fluttered closed. "Hey," I said, and nudged him in the ribs. "Mind if I go to sleep, too? I'm awfully tired."

He nodded once as I slipped under the covers and faced him, gazing at the wolf with happy eyes. "I'm glad you let me stay, Remus," I murmured, and then dropped off to sleep, leaving a watchful wolf awake and waiting next to me.

* * *

I woke with a start when I heard the abrupt snarling. "Remus," I called out, my eyes searching uselessly in the dark. Slowly, everything filtered in. The moon had set. It was near daybreak. Remus had changed back. He was lying on the floor, a blanket covering him, shivering slightly. I got up and lay down beside him. "C'mon, Remus, are you strong enough to move?" I asked gently, brushing a strand of his hair out of his face. He sighed heavily and nodded. I brought him the clothes he pointed out and turned my back while he pulled them on. Then, slowly, with my help, he rose to his feet and we walked to the bed.

"C'mon," I said softly. "You need rest."

He smiled at me, albeit wearily, as we settled into bed. "Thank you, Nymphadora."

I rolled closer to him. He enveloped me in his arms and I laid my head on his chest, smiling through my tears. "I love you," I reminded him softly, and looked up. He placed a kiss on my forehead.

"And I love you," he told me, as I snuggled up to him, his arms proving far warmer than the blanket. "Let's get some sleep."

With that, we both drifted off peacefully into the realm of dreamland.

* * *

Slowly, achingly slowly, my eyes came open. Shafts of sunlight fell across the bed I was laying in, making the dust in the air swirl golden. Distantly, I thought I heard someone singing carols, but that didn't matter to me. The only thing that mattered was that I felt another body in bed beside me, and I knew exactly whom it was.

I rolled over, pressing myself into Remus's chest. His arms tightened around me, whether consciously or in sleep, I didn't know. Listening to his heartbeat was like a wonderful lullaby. I breathed in deep his scent – a faint whiff of cologne, mixed with something deep and woodsy – and smiled into his chest. Suddenly, Remus stirred. A light sleeper, apparently. He looked down sleepily to find me awake and smiled. "Good morning."

"Good morning," I replied in kind, smiling up at him. It was definitely _Sirius _singing Christmas carols; I could tell it was my cousin by his booming voice. Remus leaned down and kissed me, and all the thoughts of carols were driven out of my mind.

When the kiss broke, he said reluctantly, "We should head downstairs…"

I nodded and unenthusiastically swung out of bed. He did the same. "Wait," he said suddenly. "One last thing…"

I turned. He was holding a package in his arms, wrapped very neatly, but the object was obviously very lumpy. I smiled. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"You didn't have to get me anything either, remember?" He handed it to me and shoved his hands deep inside his pockets. "It's not much, but…" He trailed off as I unwrapped it.

It was a Muggle teddy bear, holding a small sack of chocolates and – my favourite – chocolate-covered cherries. The bear had black, shiny eyes, its fur a soft, tawny colour that was highly reminiscent of the wolf's coat. I hugged the bear to my chest. "I _love _it, Remus," I breathed, smiling at him.

His warm smile was enough to melt my heart. "Come here." Willingly I went to him. He hugged me long and hard, and I closed my eyes and breathed his scent in again, feeling as though I would drown in happiness. "Happy Christmas, Nymphadora," he said into my hair.

I wasn't going to protest at the use of my name. When he said it, it seemed like the best name in the world. "Happy Christmas to you, too, Remus," I whispered, and his lips caught mine in a long, slow kiss. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the sparkling snow falling merrily outside the window, turning it silver and gold, and everything was perfect in the world for one long, peaceful moment. I smiled up at my love. He was perfect, I decided then and there. And he was mine.

**

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To my awesome, patient reviewers… **

**slightly so: **Sorry I missed you last chapter! I think you got what you want in this chapter, though.

**the singer: **I'm glad you like the way I capture Tonks. Thanks for your review, and sorry I missed you last chapter.

**Elizabeth Theresa: **Well, here's the Christmas scene! Lol. I'm glad you're enjoying it, hope it was worth the wait.

**datswatutink: **Sorry my update was much slower this time. I hope you liked the next chapter, and I'm glad you liked the book idea .

**sea-ess-eye: **Yep, I wrote the poem in the dedication, I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for your review!

**Fawkes309: **Thanks for your review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**padfootbabeinblack: **I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope you enjoyed this one.

**Steffie Black: **Well, though it was a long time in coming, I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks for your review.

**UnnamedElement: **I'm glad you like my story. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Thanks for your review.

**Schnebz: **Thanks for your review!

**Kerichi: **Well, the enchanted misletoe was a good idea, but…I decided that I liked this way better. Either way, you got what you wanted! Lol. Thanks for your review, as always.

**chinchilla-in-a-bowl: **Glad you like the story. Thanks for your review!

**Sky Spade: **Glad you like my story. Thanks for your review!

**Mouseykins: **That warm, fuzzy feeling was what I was aiming for – good to know that I nailed it. Thanks for your review!

**Lupin lover: **Glad you like the story, I hope the update came fast enough!


	10. aching

**Author's Note:** I decided to rewrite the two chapters I've done for Part Two, mostly because my writing has been bloody awful lately, so...there you are. Let me know if it's better, or worse, or if I seem to be getting back on my feet. Feedback is what I live on.

**

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part two**

chapter one

aching

_Nymphadora._

My imagination was playing infernal tricks on me again. I hated it deeply. Anger flared in my chest, but not enough to pull me from beneath the next of mussed blankets I was piled under. Keeping my eyes shut tightly, I sniffed haughtily and buried my nose back into the blankets. There was the slightly mothball-ish smell about them currently, as though they hadn't been slept in for a while. It was true, really. These had been dug out of the recesses that were the black hole in my closet. I was too tired and too irritated to wash the other ones.

_Too old, too poor, too dangerous._

"Shut up," I said aloud, my voice angry and cracked from sleep. "Shut the bloody hell up and go away."

_Nymphadora…_

The last traces of the dream fell away, and I was fully awake, cursing my consciousness. I wanted to stay in the borderland between dreaming and life forever. With a long-suffering sigh, I sat up and ran a hand through my tangled, mouse-brown hair, lifting a lock of it before my eyes. "Look at what you've done to me," I cursed angrily at the empty air. "You've got no right to turn me into myself again. What a…"

But I didn't finish the sentence, because the wrong words filled it in. Instead of _bastard_, or _insufferable lunatic, _the words that came to mind were _noble, _or _caring_, or _insane but I like him that way._ I stifled a snarl behind my clenched teeth and got out of bed. My room was a mess, things thrown this way and that. I was rarely here anymore, involving myself as much as I could with the Order and with keeping a low profile at work. It looked like a rat's nest.

_Maybe I am a rat,_ I thought venomously, lashing out to kick the dresser suddenly. The mirror atop it shrieked and fell silent when I through it a death glare, now limping due to the pain in my foot. Huffing, I grabbed clothes from the dresser draws – they were all thrown in pell-mell, but I didn't care – and glanced at the Muggle alarm clock that still sat resolutely on the dresser. It was barely 3:31 in the morning, but I was suddenly too full of restless energy to sleep. I dressed quickly in Muggle clothes, intending to set out for a walk.

When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I stopped for a second and stared. Truthfully, for a month or so now, I hadn't really looked in a mirror. I hated my natural features and wanted to kill Remus – Lupin – for hurting me so badly that I couldn't even morph. My skin was pale, my hair a dead, mousy brown, tangled from sleep and rather limp. I was thin, but that wasn't exactly natural, merely an after-effect of the loss of Molly's cooking. I avoided Grimmauld Place, and the Burrow, in times of late. She was sending owl after owl out to have me for dinner, but unless there was a function I was really needed for, I preferred not to be there.

Remus might be there.

I stilled at the thought of his name, my anger and restlessness all vanishing in one fell swoop. With seemingly damaged movements I ran a hand over my features, the face that I hadn't looked at properly for years now. _This isn't me, _I told myself, my anger resurfacing as suddenly as it had gone. _And he can bloody well go to Hell for turning me into this mess._

My eye caught the teddy bear in the corner, obviously thrown there in one of my bouts of rage last night. I was terribly moody lately, and the bear, though I couldn't get rid of it, reminded me of him so unavoidably. Now, though, I stooped down and picked it up, cradling it in my arms. "I'm sorry," I whispered to it, feeling somewhat foolish that I was talking to a stuffed bear. "It's not your fault." I placed it on the bed and tugged the empty candy bag out of its hold. A piece of paper trapped behind the bag fluttered to the bedcovers. I hesitated, wondering if I really wanted to read it. It could be a receipt, or something that had gotten lodged there when it was thrown, but somehow I knew it was a note I'd never read.

Instead of suffering the agony (and possibly taking out my anger on the letter by ripping it up) I snatched up the note and put it in my pocket. My lonely first name was written in his neat, legible writing on the front. It hurt me even to look at that. More than hurt me; it made me angry, more than I was already.

I glanced at the clock. 3:42 a.m. Perfect time for a restless stroll. I threw on a sweatshirt to avoid attracting stares from the none-magical folk, slipped my wand into the waistband of my jeans (I didn't care what Mad-Eye said about elementary wand safety), and set off out the door of my small flat after running a brush through my mouse-brown hair.

It was misty in London at the present. It reflected my gloom in a big way, but I would have preferred a thunderstorm. Better expression of irritation. Through the thin fabric of the sweatshirt, I shivered. It was drizzly and foggy, and even that was making me more angry.

My feet automatically trod the path to my favourite park. It was probably a mile away. I was slightly numb by the time I'd gotten there, my clothes and hair somewhat damp from the chill. I sat down in my favourite swing and stared at the ground beneath my feet, not only wishing for Remus Lupin, but missing Sirius Black.

_Oh, Sirius._

"_Dammit, _Sirius," I said aloud, the anger in my voice cutting through the fog. "Why'd you have to die?"

_Not my place to judge things like that…_

What a load of crap. Of course it was my place to judge things like that. He was _my _cousin, after all. And…the way his death had killed Remus…I gritted my teeth. _Don't think about that_, I told myself silently. _Don't think about that. It's not like he didn't have that load of misery coming when he's being such a half-witted…_

The words failed me again. He didn't deserve this. None of us did. I roughly brushed my hand over my eyes, swiping away the tears. I wasn't going to cry. Not again…

"_Nymphadora Tonks."_

_I turned in my swing to see the handsome, cunning Sirius Black swinging slightly next to me. "Sirius?" I said in surprise, and quite a lot of happiness._

_He smiled, a little. His face had transformed since his death, it seemed, reverting back to its younger, handsomer self, full of life even when he was not. "Yes, it's me," he said, wrapping a hand around the chain of the swing. "How are you doing?"_

_I thought it a queer question to ask, but went along with it. "Alright, I guess…"_

_He glanced up at me and looked surprised. "What've you done with your hair? It that what you really look like?"_

"_Yes," I said, glancing at the ground, thinking again of Remus._

"_Um, Tonks," he said, his voice serious, but I heard a hint of mirth. "If that's what you really look like, I, er, have no problem with you morphing…"_

_I made to hit him; he flinched back, still laughing. I couldn't help that my lips twitched in a slight smile, too, but it faded away again immediately. "I'm having trouble Metamorphosing," I told him, ashamed. "It's…it gives me a bloody headache, to be honest."_

_His brow furrowed, his laughter gone. "Why?" he asked. "Is it because of the battle? I've heard of trauma causing defects in your magic, but…"_

_I gritted my teeth. "It wasn't the battle."_

_Sirius looked at me, and in that one glance it was like he guessed it all. Maybe he could. He was dead, after all. Maybe he could read minds now. It was a frightening idea, but I entertained it nonetheless. "It's Moony, isn't it? He's decided he's…"_

_"Too old, too poor, too dangerous," I finished for him, my voice dying slightly, but then it raged up again. "He's _your_ effing best friend! What the hell is he doing this to me for? I didn't…"_

_"He's scared, Tonks," he said quietly. "He's very…insecure, Moony. Doesn't want to hurt you."_

_"He's hurting me by the way he's acting now!" I began hotly, but he silenced me with a look._

_"Have patience."_

_"This advice from Sirius Black?" I laughed, bitterly, my emotions suddenly swamping me. "So careful, weren't you? No, you had to be an idiot and go after Bellatrix and act cocky…"_

_His face coloured angrily, and he leapt to his feet. I followed suit. "Do you think I wanted to die, Tonks? I have a godson who still needs me, a best friend who's acting like a bleeding idiot, and a cousin who can't morph anymore! Did you ever think that maybe it was an accident?"_

_"You don't understand!" I cried, my voice echoing strangely through the fog. "It's my fault you're dead! If I'd finished her…if I'd been stronger…you'd still be alive!"_

_He stared at me for a second, and it seemed that the handsome youth he'd reacquired faded, and the gaunt face of the man from Azkaban had resurfaced. Gruffly, he said, "Come here," and I came, tears streaking down my pale face, and he pulled me into his arms._

_"And now Remus," I sobbed angrily into his shirt, not even noticing that it wasn't getting wet, "Remus won't…I haven't seen him since I was in St. Mungo's…Sirius, what if he never comes around? I don't want him to be alone for the rest of his life, I…"_

_"You want him to be happy." His voice was quieter. "That's what we've all wanted for him, all along. He just can't imagine that he deserves happiness. But he has to come around eventually, now. He has you, Tonks. He has you and he'd be a bloody idiot if he doesn't face up to what things are soon."_

_I fell silent, not for lack of things to say, but for lack of ways to say them._

"_Tonks."_

_I pulled away slightly to look up at him. His hardened face stared toward me, his black eyes so full of life and remorse at the same time. How I wished that he was alive again. How I wished that he hadn't left Remus…so alone, as the last Marauder. Well, what _I _considered to be the last Marauder. "Give him time," he said quietly. "He can't hide forever. He'll realize eventually, you'll see."_

_Weakly, I nodded. Sirius turned suddenly, as though he'd heard something. "What is it?" I asked._

"_I have to go. Time's up. See you when you get here, Tonks, but…it'll be a while." He smiled at me._

"Sirius…?"

"No, Nymphadora, it's me. Remus."

I jerked fully awake. I was still sitting in that ridiculous swing. _I must've fallen asleep, _I thought groggily, squinting up to look into Remus's kind, concerned features. He looked rather worn out; almost without thinking I calculated the days to full moon. It had been the night before last. That would explain his tired features.

"It's day after full moon, Remus, what are you doing here?" I yawned, turning my face back toward the chain of the swing so that I could rest my head against it. Irritated suddenly when I realized my face was moist, I wiped off my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

He flinched when I mentioned the full moon and sat down in the swing next to mine, where I'd seen Sirius sitting only a moment before. I blinked; my eyes were suddenly filled with tears again. I glanced away, closing my eyes, fighting off the wave of pain and anger that washed over me. "Were you dreaming?" Remus's voice asked, seemingly from a long distance.

"Yes," I mumbled. "About…Sirius."

Silence greeted my announcement. "Sorry," I said quietly, as an afterthought, cursing myself for my blunder.

When I opened my eyes again, his arm had curled around the chain of his swing, and he was staring at the ground, his eyes hardening steadily as his features did; there it came again, the tortured marauder's attempt to put his heartache behind him. "Remus?" I asked quietly.

With every effort to tear himself away from the sorrow, he turned to look at me without a word, his piercing, blue-grey eyes spearing mine. I sighed, shook my head, and looked away. "I'm sorry, about Sirius," I said finally. "You must feel…abandoned."

He cleared his throat. "Far from it." Before I'd even considered the intricacies of this statement, he'd risen to his feet. "I should be going. You'll be all right getting home on your own?"

I looked up at him, mourning clawing at my heart, and then I blinked and looked away, trying to fight the tears. There would have been a time, not so long ago, when he would have accompanied me without asking, when our dialogue would not have been pre-planned, when my answer would not always be, _No, I'm fine_, even if I wasn't. I merely shook my head, unable to respond. He nodded, said, "Goodnight, Nymphadora," and vanished into the mist.

I clenched the chain of the swing and tried not to let my mind linger on him, but it was impossible. After the conversation we'd had only days before, he was all I could ever think of. It wasn't a good thing, not anymore.


	11. dark light

**Author's Note: **It gets somewhat canon-ish later in the chapter. Sorry about that. This is somewhat important, at least in my mind. Rewritten, but it includes part of what I had written before. If that made any sense at all.

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chapter two

dark light

_"You could have died, Nymphadora." His voice was shaking. He was scared, I could understand that, but I was fine. I came up behind him and tried to wrap my arms around him, but he pulled away as though my touch burned him. His hand came up to his eyes and he braced himself against the kitchen counter at 12 Grimmauld Place. Tears were filling my eyes. He wouldn't let me touch him tonight._

_"But I **didn't**, Remus," I pleaded with his back, wishing that he'd turn around and break free of his fears and just kiss me like I knew he could. "I'm fine, so where's the harm?"_

_"The harm?" he asked, quietly, and finally he did turn around, but it wasn't the face that I knew. It was a face twisted in all his pain and hurt, and I realized that there were things about him that I still didn't know. "The harm is that I love you, Nymph, and I almost killed you. I'm not sane in that shape, even with the potion. I proved that."_

_"I know the risks!" I cried, tears shining in my eyes as I gazed up at him. "I knew them ages ago! I love you, and I know what you are, and it doesn't matter!"_

_"It matters when it could hurt you," he said, roughly, and laughed, a humourless laugh that chilled me. "If you stay with me, you're in constant danger. If we separate, I'll live the rest of my admittedly short life without you, the woman I love. It's a lose-lose situation. And the only choice I can choose, is…is the one that will put you in the least danger." It seemed he had difficulty getting the words out, as though they burned his throat, though that was nothing compared to what they were doing to my heart._

_"Please, Remus, I'm begging you, don't do this," I whispered, finding that my voice wasn't even strong enough to say the words above the slightest volume. "I love you, I…I can't live without you…"_

_"Find someone better than me, Tonks," he said, his voice hoarse and his eyes bright with tears he refused to shed. The use of my surname cut me to the bone. "Someone healthier, someone younger, someone more deserving than me. Someone who's not a werewolf. Someone you can be with without being in constant danger. I…" He stepped forward then, and roughly, for the last time, it seemed, kissed me. "I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly, then pulled on his cloak and walked out the door, out of my life, and left me behind to cry over the broken pieces of my heart, shattered on the kitchen floor around me. Outside, rain fell and the thunder rolled, and even though he'd just broken my heart, I hoped that he was okay in the anger of the storm…_

My lips twisted as I fiddled with the dinner that Molly had pushed across the table at me. Months later, the memory was still killing me. I had no doubt that I'd die soon if I couldn't get back my hair, at least. Even blond would be acceptable, anything but this retched mouse-brown colour. Heavily, I sighed, gazing down at the soup that tasted good, as did all of Molly's cooking, but that I didn't have the appetite for. I didn't have the appetite for anything lately.

I looked up to meet Molly's kind eyes. "Tonks, he'll come around," she said firmly. "Remus is a stubborn man, but he can't avoid you forever."

"I miss him," I muttered, grumpily. "Even though he could bloody well go to Hell right now for all I care."

"Of course you miss him," she said, gently. "You love him." I sighed heavily and blinked away the tears. "Let me tell you something. While you two were together, he was happier than I've ever seen him, happier than Sirius has seen him since their schooldays. You're good for him, and he can't deny that forever."

"I'm worried about him," I whispered, the anger dissipating again as the perpetual anxiousness came back. "With all those werewolves, and they…they could tear him apart."

"Remus can hold his own in a battle," Molly said confidently. "You've seen him fight, Tonks. The man looks weak, but he has a will of iron." Her eye twinkled. "Perhaps the reason you're having such a problem with him."

"Too old, too poor, too dangerous," I said, softly, turning a mug of tea in my hands. "That's what he keeps telling me. I could care less about the age difference, and I never expected to marry rich. As for dangerous, what does he think being an Auror entails? What being in the _Order _entails?"

She looked somewhat grave. "I understand his concern. He doesn't want you hurt. What happened, the night that he decided he was too dangerous?"

I swallowed and the anger and fear came back. "I was with him at full moon, like I usually was; I hate him being alone at that time. But he's developing an immunity of sorts to the potion, or so he seems to think; there was a minute, while I was with him, that he lost it. Growling and snarling, got close enough to nip the hem of my robes, but nothing more, and then he was himself again. But when he came to…" I shook my head and swallowed the tears. "He was convinced that he could never let it happen again."

Molly nodded her understanding and reached out to squeeze my shoulder, and we sat in silence for a moment. Abruptly, three knocks shattered the silence. I frowned, realizing how late it was. Molly looked worried. "Who's there? Declare yourself!"

I sensed a trace of amusement when Dumbledore's voice replied through the door. "It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry."

She rushed to the door at once, opening it quickly. "Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"

"We were lucky," Dumbledore commented, guiding Harry into the house. The remaining Potter looked tired, surprised, and happy all at once, which I thought was quite a mix for a teenage boy. Granted, I had my own mixture of crazed emotions lately, so it wasn't much of a surprise. "Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing, of course." He spotted me, and I almost shrank back from the table. Dumbledore's light blue eyes saw through everything, including my misery, I assumed. "Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

The cheeriness, which once would have delighted me, almost made me wince. "Hello, Professor." Preferring to turn away from the penetrating blue gaze, I looked to the younger of the two. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hi, Tonks." He looked happy to see me, which was nice, I supposed. At least _someone _wanted to see me. I managed a smile, but it felt somewhat forced.

"I'd better be off," I said, feeling Dumbledore's gaze still on me, calculating and concerned. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly," I added, pulling my cloak around my shoulders.

"Please don't leave on my account," said Dumbledore, still looking at me in that peculiar way. "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

"No, no," I said, hastily, "I need to get going." I avoided his eyes and started for the door. "'Night…"

"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming…?"

I winced, hoping it wasn't too noticeable. The last thing I wanted was to be around Remus and let him see me in this horrible state. "No, really, Molly…thanks anyway…Good night, everyone." I rushed past Dumbledore without looking at him, got as far as I needed from the house, and then turned on my heel, Apparating swiftly away.

It wasn't long after I'd entered my flat that there was a polite rap on the door. I cursed to myself; Dumbledore was a brilliant man, really, but he was rather meddling at times. I looked hopelessly at the state of disarray that currently embodied my flat, then went to the door and opened it a crack. Dumbledore stood on the threshold, serene as ever.

"Nymphadora," he said warmly, giving me a twinkling smile, "I'd like a word, if it is of convenience?"

I sighed. "Sure, Professor." Knowing I was stuck, I let him in, leading the way to the kitchen, which was currently the least messy room of the flat. "I thought you had urgent business with Rufus Scrimgeour?"

"Five minutes won't make much of a difference." The light blue gaze surveyed me from across the table. I avoided it. "You don't look well, Nymphadora. Problems morphing?"

Glowering, I muttered, "Yes," and immediately felt like an insolent teenager again.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Remus Lupin, does it?"

Startled, I looked up into his all-knowing eyes. "I didn't know you knew about me and Remus," I said, slowly, somewhat confused. Dumbledore didn't usually make it his business to know who was involved with whom.

"He told me," he said simply, "the night he told me that he would go to the werewolves." I drew in a hissed breath and the mention and looked away again. "I expressed my concern to him that he was merely taking this assignment as an easy out, to avoid running into you and causing further pain."

I laughed bitterly. "I don't think it could hurt any worse, Professor. Remus is…"

"…very stubborn," he finished for me, "and very concerned for those he loves." I looked up to meet his eyes again. "You must understand that he has always tried to keep those he cares about out of the way of his condition. When he was in school, it took years for his friends to discover what he was. It is very hard for him to trust people, when so many have turned him away."

"But I didn't turn him away," I protested.

"You loved him," he replied, fixing me with that penetrating stare. "That was enough. He is convinced that he is a danger to your safety, and he won't risk it again."

My heart was sinking. "So what are you here to tell me?" I knew that my tone would have gotten me in trouble if I'd been a student at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore had the power to irritate people. "That I should give up and forget about him because there's no chance he'll come around? I don't care if there is no chance, Professor. I'm going to keep trying until he realizes that he's being a bloody idiot." I glared back at the light blue eyes, and to my surprise, Dumbledore smiled.

"That is all I wanted to hear," he said, gently, and stood. "I must go now. Rufus awaits." He rested his hand on my shoulder for a moment before he left. "Persistence is quite often what brings most people to their senses. Remus may just need more than others. Good night, Nymphadora." He swept out of the kitchen and through the door, letting it lock behind him.

I sighed heavily and looked around the messy flat. Tomorrow, I promised myself, after a good night's sleep, I'd clean this rat's nest up.


	12. the queendom of Tonks

chapter three

the queendom of Tonks

When I woke the next morning, on time for once, I took a moment to savour the warmth of the covers that I lay under, and then forced myself out of bed, peering in the mirror to take a closer look at myself. _My hair looks a bit better, _I thought hopefully, lifting a still-lank strand. _Maybe I'll be able to morph again soon._ I glanced around at the room, and wished that I knew all the householdy spells my mum had, or that I could use the few I'd picked up efficiently. It would take a lot of time to clean up this mess by hand.

I glanced at the clock. It was eight in the morning. Time enough to have breakfast, and then get down to the scrubbing. I winced at the thought, but it was better than sleeping till noon and moping all day. Tugging on a battered pair of jeans and a bright pink tank top (if my hair wasn't pink, my clothes were going to be), I made my way to the kitchen and fixed breakfast: difficult, considering there was little food lying about. I cautiously lifted an empty McDonald's sack and watched the spiders scurry away from the light. The smell of cold grease made me want to gag. Since when had I decided to live off of Muggle food?

I hardly burned the toast or the scrambled eggs, which was a pleasant surprise, and didn't drop the tea as I made my way to the table. Once I'd finished breakfast, I did the dishes for what looked like the first time in over a week, tackling the grime that had engrained itself on my mismatched plates and forks with a new-found fervour. I straightened up the kitchen, throwing away the bits of parchment and rubbish that lay on the table, and then stood back to admire my work. It was cleaner, anyway. I'd mop the floor later.

I came across a worn leather photo album in my quest to clean the sitting room. Knowing what it contained, I shoved it away in my bookshelf, not wanting to instigate another bout of depression. It was hard enough to fight already; seeing the evidence of what I'd once had would make it all the worse.

I'd just finished cleaning up the sitting room and dusting my lone bookshelf when there was a knock at my door, soft but insistent. I glanced down at myself, feeling sweaty and dusty from all the cleaning, then shrugged and got to my feet, making a half-hearted attempt to brush away the worst of the grime. I guess I'd taken too long, because the knock came again, a bit louder this time. "I'm _coming_," I said irritably, then pulled the door open.

I won't pretend that my heart didn't twist terribly in my throat when I beheld the man that stood on my doorstep, holding one careworn bag and looking particularly tired. "Remus," I managed, even though I felt rather like throwing up. "What are you doing here?"

He managed a slight smile. "Saying goodbye. I'll be out of contact while I'm with the werewolves, and I didn't want you to hear the news of my departure from anyone else. Molly told me you weren't coming to dinner, so…"

"I heard you were leaving," I interrupted bluntly, leaning against the door.

He was surveying my current appearance with the slightest line of concern in his brow. "You…don't look well, Nymphadora."

I shrugged lightly and flashed a quick smile, but it didn't stay on my face long. "I'm…cleaning. I always look like crap when I clean. It's so bloody depressing." I hoped it sounded authentic. I didn't want him to know that I was having problems morphing.

He laughed softly at that. "May I come in?"

I sighed. "Why not? Behold the newly sparkling queendom of Tonks." I threw the door open wide, turned on my heel, and promptly tripped over a stray book lying on the floor. With the speed of the wolf he was, Remus caught me and hauled me upright, trying hard, by the sound of it, not to laugh.

"Would you like some tea?" I asked courteously, my face burning, trying to brush off the incident as though it didn't matter that I was so effing clumsy.

Something like remorse flashed across his face; I wondered if he was remembering the times we'd spent in front of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, playing chess and laughing and talking and drinking tea. "No, thank you," he said. "I cannot stay long. I…" He hesitated. "I want to make peace with you, Nymphadora. I don't want to leave knowing you're angry with me, or thinking me a coward."

"Peace," I said flatly, making it clear that I was unimpressed with the noble gesture.

He nodded, looking slightly more nervous at the clearly uncompromising tone in my voice. "I know I hurt you, Nymphadora," he said, quietly. Tears threatened to fill my eyes all over again. I pushed them away, fighting for my composure. "I'm…sorry. I was trying to protect you."

"Well, you did a bloody good job," I snapped, irritated. "But you can't protect me from my own feelings. In the act of protecting me from you, you couldn't protect me from _myself_."

A flicker of pain crossed his face. "I know. And I'm sorry."

For a moment, there was silence, and then I sighed, tiredly. "I know you are."

He nodded, realizing that this was the closest thing to an acceptance of his apology that he was going to get. "I don't want us to shut each other out," he said, quietly. "We were good friends; can we stay that way? I would sorely miss your company if we were to part entirely."

Even though my heart screamed no at me, I found myself nodding, despite knowing that this was going to lead to more heartbreak on both our parts. I had promised Dumbledore, after all, that I'd keep trying, and Remus had just offered the easiest way. "I'd miss yours, too, I guess," I said, trying not to sound to enthusiastic about this, but the flicker of a smile crossed my lips. "Even if you are an old stuffed shirt who likes to smell books."

He laughed again, softly, looking as though something of a weight had been removed from his shoulders. "Friends, then?"

I looked at the hand he held stretched out to me, then nodded and shook it, feeling the calluses and scars beneath my palm. "Friends."

He smiled at me, though the pain was still there, and I smiled back. _You still love me, _I told him in my mind. _And someday you're going to admit it, whether you like it or not._ "It is cleaner, I'll give you that," Remus mused aloud, looking around my flat. If not _organized, _at least it wasn't dirty anymore.

"All by hand," I said, releasing his. "Couldn't ever master those effing household charms that my mum always did."

He smiled, and then sighed, heavily. "I'd best be going. It's going to be a long day." His eyes were filled with tiredness at the thought of what he was going into. He turned away from me and picked up his bag, heading to the door.

"Remus."

He stopped with his hand on the knob and turned. Before I could lose my nerve, I crossed the space between us and hugged him, briefly. He was too surprised to pull away; on the contrary, he dropped his bag and lifted his arms to hug me back. I pulled away, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "I'm glad we're friends again," I told him, trying to fight down any more tears. "Be careful. Come back in one piece."

_And I just can't live without you, can't you see it in my eyes?_

He smiled wanly. "I'll do my best. I'll drop you an owl when I return." He squeezed my shoulder quickly, picked up his bag, and walked through the door. I watched his retreating form down the hallway, then shut my door softly and sank down against it, running a hand through my hair and fighting off the tears. For a long moment, I sat there, battling with the loneliness that was enveloping me anew, and then I slowly pushed to my feet. There was still cleaning to do, and I was going to finish what I had started.


	13. pretending

_Hmm…Christmas in…well, not July, but June, it's close enough. Sorry again for the long wait. I think I might actually post regularly from now on. That's a surprise._

* * *

**chapter four**

pretending

* * *

"Silent night," I muttered under my breath as I nursed a glass of eggnog next to the fire on Christmas Eve. The record player was playing a scratchy rendition of "Silent Night," but after the first two words, I found that I didn't have the heart to join in. Meaninglessly, I ran my thumb down the side of the glass, catching a pool of moisture trickling into my hand. I knew that Mad-Eye and Kingsley, and Remus and Molly and Arthur and the rest of the Order would probably welcome me to any Christmas Eve or Christmas Day parties that I showed up at, but somehow, I took a morose pleasure in spending this Christmas alone.

It pained me deeply to remember last Christmas, spent so close to Remus, and the months that followed. My determination to keep a chin-up attitude was failing steadily, I realized as I gazed into the fire. Here I sat, on Christmas Eve, when I could be at a dozen parties in the company of people I loved, and yet, I was alone, watching the fire burn down to the embers and the snow drift past outside.

Disgruntled and feeling thoroughly depressed now, I muttered to myself, "Happy Christmas, Tonks," curled up on the couch, and fell asleep.

* * *

Remus didn't write often. That was the first thing I noticed when he went away. He didn't write at all, hardly. I expected that it was due to the extreme conditions of being with the other werewolves that he couldn't exactly write to anyone, but it still wounded me that when our friendship was so new and fragile again he couldn't be around to strengthen it, or even write. The few letters that I got were somewhat awkward, with a brave but pitiful stab at friendliness, as though we were completely comfortable with one another again.

I knew that no matter what either of us said, we could never actually be friends without thinking of what once was and what could have been, at least I couldn't. It might have been a good thing that he was forced to be far away right now, just so that I didn't screw everything up by shouting at him a lot about how he was being stupid, that he wasn't too old and too poor and too dangerous…and he would shake his head and walk out of my life once again…

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and cold. I woke with a distinct headache and a buzz about my ears, and as always, I tried to morph. The only thing I succeeded in was making my headache quite a lot worse. For a while I lay hopelessly on the couch, gazing up at the ceiling and thinking of the effort it would take to get up and make tea, and finally, disgusted with my completely bleak outlook on life, the universe, and everything, I got up and stumbled into the kitchen, half asleep and with my hair a mess.

My headache was dampened a bit by the tea, and I found myself in a much better humour after I'd drank it. I managed to take a shower and attempted to straighten myself up a bit afterwards. My flat looked a bit messy lately, though definitely not as bad as it had been a few months ago, so I decided to let the books and objects that were out of place lie where they were and made my way back to the sitting room, where I looked gloomily at my sorry excuse for a tree and wished I'd made a bit more of an effort.

I sighed heavily and looked down at one of the packages beneath it, the single one that didn't look as if it had arrived by owl post. On the off chance that I'd decide to go and visit the Burrow this Christmas, I'd bought a present for Remus, knowing that he would be there, but this present would go undelivered this year. I felt no particular urge to throw myself into his presence today.

* * *

After he left, to remind myself of him, I often cast my Patronus charm and let it wander around my room late at night. It used to be something…well, different. I didn't clearly remember what form my Patronus had taken before. Now, though, it was a werewolf, a werewolf that was perfect in its likeness to Remus. The late nights when I couldn't sleep, I cast the charm in a whisper and watched the wolf for a while as it nosed around, always examining things in the way that Remus would have done as a wolf.

It made me miss him, but it made me feel better, too.

* * *

Later that afternoon, as I sat listening to Christmas carols on the radio and attempting to roast marshmallows in the fire (without magic, it's a tricky business) there came a soft knock on the door, one that I recognized all too well. For a moment, I closed my eyes, wondering if he would go away if I ignored him. There was that other part of me, too, that was convinced that it was someone else entirely, that it wasn't even who I thought it was at all.

The knock came again, insistent. His knock is so recognizable. It had to be him.

I got to my feet, moving slowly to the door, waiting for it to get louder. It did. Almost grinning with the amusement of teasing him, I reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

Sure enough, it was Remus on my doorstep, looking as careworn as ever, and a bit of concern flickered in his blue-grey eyes as he took in my less-than-usual-Tonks appearance. "Remus," I said, smiling as much as I could without making it look like a grimace. "Happy Christmas. Back from the werewolves, I take it?"

He looked at me curiously. "I sent you an owl," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets and stepping across the threshold. For the split second that I didn't back up in time, his body and mine were close enough that I caught a whiff of his unique scent, worn and earthy, and when my eyes met his for a split second I felt my heart break and my self-control almost crumbled. I stepped back, fighting to keep my face straight.

He hadn't noticed. At least, I told myself he hadn't.

He glanced around the very empty flat as I shut the door behind him. "Spending Christmas by yourself?" he asked, frowning. "You know Molly would have loved to have you over…I just came from there myself."

"Can't stand Fleur," I said, trying to make this sound authentic as well. "She's downright annoying. If I'm in the same room with her I can't morph."

He raised his eyebrows and his lip twitched in a smile. "And your morphing abilities are impeccable right now."

I frowned up at him. "It's just about as bad as asking a girl how much she weighs, Remus. Don't go there. I'm fine."

His eyes searched mine closely. "You're not fine," he said softly. "But, alright. It's Christmas. We won't discuss it. Speaking of which…" He drew a package, wrapped in brown paper, out of his cloak. "I brought something for you."

My grin was almost entirely real. "Ooh, thanks, Remus. I actually have something for you, too, it's that thing wrapped all clumsily sitting under my tree over there." I pointed as I went to sit on my couch. "Tea?" I asked, lifting the kettle from the table to pour him some.

"Sure, thanks," he said as he stooped to pick up the package. It was a book, obviously. Even my wrapping wasn't _that_ bad. The shape was still distinctly rectangular. At least, I thought so.

We sat side by side and opened our presents. He'd gotten me those delicious chocolate covered cherries, and a servicing kit for my wand. "You know," he said, his eyes twinkling, "in case it ever gets as dirty as your flat."

I smacked him on the shoulder in retaliation, and we both laughed, and the talk turned to light things, to joking and laughing like we had in the old days; I broke out my little-used chess set and we drank tea and laughed our way through the Christmas Day, until darkness fell outside.

He looked up and frowned at my tree. "Your tree looks a little…forlorn, Nymphadora," he said, and, as per usual, I winced at the use of my first name.

"I think it's a fine tree," I said stoutly, glancing up at it. "Don't make fun of it for being a little more ragged than the rest."

"It needs more decorations." Truthfully, he was right. The little ragged tree, with some of its branches and a good few of its needles missing, would have looked spectacular if I would have finished stringing popcorn or had unpacked the other three-quarters of the Christmas baubles to put on it.

"Fine. We'll give it more decorations."

All in all, I had a merry evening with him, despite the aching that kept growing and growing in the pit of my stomach, the ache that said I wished we were spending this day as lovers, not as friends. It was late when we had finished stringing popcorn and adding sparkles and baubles to the forlorn little tree, but by the time I sat back with heavy eyes and looked at it from my perch on the couch, no tree had ever looked prettier. Remus sat down again next to me, and without thinking, I leaned against his shoulder, closing my eyes and yawning.

I felt him stiffen next to me, practically heard his mind screaming, _Push her away_, but I said sleepily, "Honestly, Remus. It's Christmas. Pretend with me for one night that things were back the way they used to be."

He didn't want to. "And have you hate me when you wake up tomorrow morning and find me gone? It won't work, Nymphadora. It never could. I'm…"

"Too old, too poor, too dangerous," I finished for him, irritably, tilting my chin just a little so I could look up into his blue-grey eyes. "Yeah, I know the speech by heart by now. One night, Remus. Pretend that your old mind isn't keeping you from being happy, pretend that we could be together forever. It's just one night."

He gave in, finally, letting his arm fall around me as we settled back into the couch. I turned my face into his chest, breathing deep his smell, enjoying the warmth of his arms around me again, even if it was for only a few more hours.

"Happy Christmas, Remus," I whispered, and right before I slipped off to sleep, I could have sworn he whispered it back.


	14. remus: an aside

_Hey guys…long time, no post._

_I'm going to try and wrap this story up soon. Sorry for the nearly year-long delay._

* * *

chapter five

remus: an aside

_She falls asleep almost instantly. When I'm quite sure she's completely lodged in dreamland, I lift my hand to stroke her now mousy-brown hair, and deny the angry voice in my head that says I've done this to her. Every fiber, every bit of my being wants to believe the excuses she makes for her appearance, but I can't forget how hard my stomach twisted when Snape threw in my face the change in her Patronus. I've had months to think about it, away with the werewolves, before it was sprung at me again, quite innocently, of course, by Harry._

_An emotional upheaval. I could blame it all on Sirius's death and be done with it, but thinking of his absence hurts even worse, and again my heart shudders at the panic of being so completely alone. I lost James, Sirius, and Peter all in the same night, and now, a short two years after Sirius has been restored, I've lost him again._

_The voice in my head tells me that I've chosen to be alone. I push Nymphadora away with my excuses – too old, too poor, too dangerous – and shroud myself in my misery, in my unhappiness, in my desperation to keep from being hurt further._

_"I'm not protecting you," I whisper aloud, though she won't hear me. She's a heavy sleeper. I know it well. "I'm protecting myself."_

_I miss her. Her clutzy charm, her vibrant shades of morphing hair, her ability to look up innocently into my eyes and make me forget what I am. Old, poor, and dangerous – but her eyes, her beautiful, shape-shifting eyes, make me forget so thoroughly that only later do I remember the danger of forgetting._

_Because even if I forget, it still happens every month. And quite simply, she would be better off without me. She __**is **__better off without me. I tell myself that despite the state of her flat, the state of her life, the miserable look on her features that she just can't hide; she wears her heart too much on her sleeve. Quite the opposite of me._

_She turns over in her sleep and buries her face into my chest, murmuring. I can hear her say my name, and a trailing, soft whisper: "Don't go..."_

_I will let myself have a few more hours with her, my arms held close around this, the most beautiful lover I could ever have asked her, and then I will leave her, because she is better off without me. What could I offer her? What do I have to give? She would worry constantly about me, especially the job I've been given now – and I couldn't provide for her, with my inability to hold a job, because of what I am – and she's so young, such a full life ahead of her, which could be spent – my stomach twists at the thought – with someone younger, stronger, better than me..._

_Her hair is beginning to lighten, bubblegum pink showing through the mousy brown in thin, glistening strands. My body becomes rigid as I shake down a sob. "I'm sorry, Nymphadora," I whisper, and dislodge myself from her wonderful embrace, and return to my lonely life among the werewolves, trying to shut her out, but unable to keep my mind from those hopeful, glistening strands of bubblegum pink in her hair._

_I should never have gotten close enough for her to fall in love with me._


	15. something useful

chapter six

something useful

The day after Christmas, I prepared myself to Apparate into Hogsmeade with a few of my necessities. For the past few months, I had been on guard duty at Hogwarts with other Aurors from the department, though, truth be told, we hadn't accomplished much. Not much, it seemed, was there to be accomplished. I'd been given a break for Christmas, while a few older Aurors came in to relieve those of us who had been there for a while, but it was practically a requirement that I return; I was the only member of the Order of the Phoenix among the guards stationed there, and would really be the only one useful to Harry or Dumbledore in a real emergency.

Remus had, of course, already left, sometime in the course of the night; I assumed he had gone to rejoin the werewolves and left it at that, trying not to think of him too often. With that last, cheerful thought, I Apparated quietly into a back alley of Hogsmeade, and strode towards the Three Broomsticks, where Dawlish, Savage, Proudfoot, and I had scheduled a meeting.

Arriving there, I glanced around. None of them had yet appeared. As I slipped between the crowd towards an empty table, I screwed up my nose and thought, as hard as I could, of the appearance I would rather take on right now, which wasn't really a stretch – I would settled for not blending in. To my immense relief, it worked. My hair turned straight and fell to my shoulders, gleaming chestnut; my eyes remained dark and sparkling; I had rearranged my nose to be smaller, and my face, too, had shrunken slightly, to appear somewhat cat-like; I also dropped a few inches from my height, to be even less noticeable. Glimpsing my appearance in the mirror behind the bar, I felt a surge of relief. It was upsetting, not being able to morph.

I called back to Madam Rosmerta for a bottle of butterbeer, not trusting myself to drink anything stronger, and handed over a few sickles when she slid it down to me. Keeping a firm grip on my wand inside my cloak, I settled myself at an empty table in the corner, waiting for the others.

Savage was the first to enter the pub; his eyes swept over the crowd, looking, I knew, for either Proudfoot or Dawlish, as it was always rather difficult to spot me, considering the frequent changes in my appearance. However, upon spotting me, at a table in the corner by myself – I gave him the tiniest of winks and he nodded back slightly – he moved towards the bar to put in an order for a drink himself, and then came to join me.

"Morphing again, eh?" he asked in a low voice, setting his drink down on the table. It was smoking slightly. I declined to ask what it was.

"Yes, well, I got rather tired of my disheveled appearance," I said testily, "not fitting for someone of our station, is it?"

He grinned. Reluctantly, I smiled back. I'd always liked Savage best out of the Aurors I was stationed with; aside from his brilliant last name, which quite fit him in battle, he seemed the most sympathetic to my clumsiness, and at least sported a sense of humor.

"Had a good Christmas, then?" he asked. "I tell you, it was a right good thing, getting out of this place for a few days...never thought I'd be so against seeing so much of Hogwarts."

"Yeah, it was alright," I answered, thinking briefly of Remus with a pang. "Quiet, I suppose. I wonder how long the Ministry'll continue to station us here? I mean, honestly, with Dumbledore's protections around the school..."

"You never know," Savage said warningly, and tipped back a sip of his drink. It was deep purple in color and still smoking. He cleared his throat, gave a cough that emitted a small flicker of violet flame, and then licked his lips. "I've heard the man looks rather ill. He's not as young as he used to be, and you know that the instant he snuffs it all his protections snuff it, too..."

"I'm sure Dumbledore's thought ahead about that; he probably collaborated with some of the other teachers, to make sure that wouldn't happen," I replied, taking a sip of my butterbeer.

"Ah, look, there's Dawlish," Savage said, glancing towards the door. "Right slimy git, never was right after that incident in the office; he seems a bit Confunded still..."

"Lasting spell damage," I snickered. "Dumbledore's a genius."

"Proudfoot, too," he added, as our last guard came through the door. Both had spotted us – Dawlish looked unkindly surprised at my returned ability to morph – and ordered drinks at the bar before wandering over.

"Back again," Proudfoot said gloomily, sitting down on my other side. Dawlish took the seat across from me. "I must say, I didn't miss this much. And to think I loved Hogsmeade during my years at Hogwarts..."

"Yes, well, we were shopping it then rather than guarding it, eh?" I answered, raising my eyebrows. His drink was a fiery shade of orange and it sparked slightly; I didn't feel at all inclined to sample it. "Anyway, any news? What're our orders?"

"Keep wandering around, looking for suspicious activity," Dawlish answered. He'd contented himself with a gin and tonic and was taking a sip now and then. "Waste of bloody time, if you ask me. Can't say I'm very fond of Dumbledore, but his protections are certainly doing more good for the school than we are."

"Here, here," Savage said heartily, raising his glass.

"Ah well," Proudfoot said, sighing as he finished off another sip from his sparking tumbler. "It's pay, isn't it?"

"We could be doing something rather more useful," Dawlish commented. "For the Ministry, I mean, with rounding up Death Eaters and all that..."

"Don't you think it's more likely that were we doing something else, it would be paperwork?" I sighed. "And I don't know about you lot, but I'd had enough of that by the time the Ministry got round to assigning me more practical things. Death Eaters are just as likely to turn up here as they are anywhere else. And they're still keeping rather quiet lately, anyway...they know they haven't got the ammunition to come out in the open quite yet."

There was a murmur of agreement, and one by one, everyone finished their drinks and stood up. "I've got the eastern village," Dawlish said.

"South," Proudfoot added.

"North," said Savage.

"I'll cover the west, then," I said. "Meet up at the gates of the school at nightfall, we need to take it in turns patrolling round there, too."

We all departed. Clumping through the snow around Hogsmeade, I felt my momentary almost-cheerfulness evaporating. The thing was, it was just so difficult to be anything but hopeless, walking around would-be casually and at other times sneaking when I knew that Remus was actually doing something useful; Remus was risking his life to help out among the werewolves; and I knew that, only too soon, he might meet his end trying to provide that service, if Fenrir Greyback got too aggressive – likely, I knew.

Brushing the sudden rush of tears from my eyes, I faded into the forest on the western side of the settlement, and, quietly as I could, set about looking for suspicious activity. I felt my hair slowly turning back to its state of mousy, lifeless brown.


	16. getting worried

chapter seven

getting worried

It was one of my rare hours off-duty that I sat yawning in the Three Broomsticks at my usual corner table, playing with my drink absentmindedly and trying not to catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I didn't need to look to see that my hair was still a dull, mousy brown. Well, Molly certainly wouldn't have difficulty recognizing me. The brief rush of semi-happiness after Christmas with Remus had worn off fairly quickly, and that single morph had been just that: a single morph. Since, I hadn't been able to change my appearance worth a damn.

Just then, the door to the warm, noisy pub opened, bringing in a blast of cold air and admitting the matriarch Weasley, who glanced around, saw me immediately, and bustled forward. She reached out and hugged me in greeting. "How are you, dear?" she asked, sitting down at the table with me.

I shrugged. "I'm alright. Patrol's getting rather boring. No sign of a Death Eater hide from here to the mountains. Absurd, isn't it?" I lifted my deep turquoise drink to my mouth and sipped. It had a pleasantly fruity, cool flavor, bringing with it a spurt of energy.

"Yes, well..." Molly looked anxious. "The less there is for you to do, the better. Have you heard from Remus lately?"

I frowned. "Not since Christmas." It had been a month or so, but I hadn't expected him to write.

Her brow creased. I finished a swallow of my drink and looked at her, suddenly concerned. "He has been sending reports to Dumbledore, hasn't he?" I asked in a low voice.

"That's just it, dear," she said, her brown eyes suddenly very concerned. "He hasn't. Hasn't been in contact with the order at all. Dumbledore doesn't seem to be too concerned, but we got news of a death among the werewolves just recently, and it could just be that he's not sending messages because it would draw too much attention, but...now, don't you go worrying," she added sharply, as I bit down on my lip, hard. "Remus can take care of himself."

I looked down at my drink. "Right," I said, my voice still low. "Of course. That's what he's been telling me all along, isn't it? It's not that he's _too old _and _too poor _and _too dangerous_..." I laughed bitterly despite my growing anxiety. "It's that he can't stand the idea of being _dependent_. I've been such a fool. You're right. He can take perfectly good care of himself. I hope he _rots _with those damn werewolves." Tears were springing to my eyes but I hastily wiped them away on the sleeve of my cloak, so that Molly couldn't see.

"Tonks," Molly said severely, "don't be ridiculous. Remus loves you."

"He sure has a funny way of showing it," I snapped.

"He's just concerned, you know that," she said, a bit more kindly. "He's learned to be so self-sacrificing, Tonks. He's certain that he would just drag you down."

"Well, what do you think?" I asked her, honestly. "Was I better off with him, or now...without him?"

Molly sighed. "You know what I think. I think he's being ridiculous, too. But he's afraid...he's lost James and Sirius, he's afraid of getting hurt again, of caring too much and then...well, neither of you have exactly safe job positions, do you?" she asked, her lip twitching slightly in a smile.

"He looked horrible at Christmas," I sighed. "They must be treating him so badly, wherever he is..."

"Dumbledore would be more concerned if he thought that Remus was truly in danger," Molly said, firmly.

"Dumbledore is consumed," I replied flatly. "He's hardly ever up at the school anymore – I don't suppose you've heard? Always away, doing something...we'd all like to know what he's up to. He doesn't typically leave Hogwarts so much, for such stretches of time, but this entire year we've been stationed here, it's like that's all he does is leave."

A tiny frown had appeared in Molly's brow. "You know, I think I'll go talk to him," I said finally. "Ask him what he knows."

She nodded. "If it makes you feel better, dear."

...

But, up at the school, I had no luck. I was right, after all: Dumbledore was always gone. Minerva McGonagall saw me coming back from his office and back from running straight into Harry. I was wiping my eyes on my sleeve, trying not to act too much like a human hosepipe, though it wasn't working well.

"Nymphadora!" she called out, as she exited the staff room. "What brings you up here? Everything all right?"

"Fine, Professor," I said hastily. "I just...fancied a chat with Dumbledore, but he's gone again, isn't he?"

"Yes." She looked at me carefully. "Something's bothering you."

She fell into step beside me on my way back down toward the Entrance Hall. "It's Remus," I said, with a shrug. "None of us have heard from him since Christmas, and there's been a death among the werewolves, hasn't there? I was concerned...thought Dumbledore could tell me something about it all..."

"Albus is away rather often lately, Nymphadora," she said, not unkindly. "You'd be lucky to catch him."

I glanced at her. "I don't suppose you know anything?"

She shook her head very slightly. "Albus would be much more concerned if he feared for Remus's safety. I can promise you that." She adjusted her pointed witch's hat on her head.

"Just wish I knew," I muttered.

"Still being difficult, is he?" McGonagall said reprovingly.

I smiled, just slightly. "How could you tell? Was it my bedraggled appearance, my hasty concern, or the fact that I look like a human hosepipe lately?"

She eyed me beadily. "Perhaps all three. Have you talked to him?"

"I tried at Christmas. He wouldn't hear it. Very proud, Remus is." I shrugged. "I guess all I can do is wait," I added glumly.

"Remus is not unkind, nor is he unintelligent," she said, in a tone somewhat more gentle than her usual bark. "He will not continue to act unwisely, I'm sure it rather weighs on his conscience."

We exchanged smiles and I departed down the steps to the Entrance Hall. "And, Nymphadora," she called after me.

"Yes?" I answered.

"How is the guard going, anyway?"

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. "Haven't caught the scent of anything unusual. I'm on the lookout, though."

She nodded, and I understood myself to be dismissed. Opening the doors of Hogwarts and departing back out into the snow of winter, I pulled up the hood of my cloak and sighed. Inside the folds of the cloak, my hand gripped my wand very tightly. Thinking of Remus exhausted me, and so, resolutely, I turned my mind well away from him.

At the gates, I turned back to look at Hogwarts. It was like a fabulously decorated ginger bread castle, iced perfectly with sugary snow, its turrets and towers glazed with the finest ice. Suddenly, I ached for my years there - nicking food from the kitchens, laughing with my friends in the Hufflepuff common room, struggling for good enough marks to become and Auror - for being safe within its walls, just learning magic, just learning what a crush felt like. I ached for the comparably lesser misery of being turned down by the boy I liked; I could never have known, at the time, that in the future I would know a misery much, much worse.


End file.
